


The Forest of Memories

by badomens444



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical Fantasy, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-30 13:16:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 44,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3938188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badomens444/pseuds/badomens444
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fresh back from the Crusades and newly appointed as the Sheriff of Nottingham, Flynn Scifo has no idea yet the difficulty he will face attempting to fulfill his first order of business: capture Robin Hood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Authors’ Notes: So I’ve been sitting on this hot mess since November waiting on a title for this fic. Finally, ended up going with the title of the first ending for  Shamanic Princess _Omoide no Mori_ at suspiciouspopsicle’s suggestion.

Also, a delightful game of Seven Minutes in Heaven in a confessional with a nun thanks to suspiciouspopsicle.

Disclaimer: Tales of Vesperia is the property of Namco Bandai.

* * *

  

They called it a ghost, a shadow, a phantom. The phantom of Sherwood. The forest was already rumored to be haunted and the locals never dared set foot within its borders. Some said that all that had happened there was the work of the horned god of the forest, a relic of the days before the light of the one true God had swept the land. Flynn didn't know which of the rumors were true, if any of them, but he knew one thing for certain: he was going to find out.

Ghost or god? Flynn had his suspicions, and neither of the former were founded in reality. It was likely a man, and a sneaky one. But it was hard to ignore how spooked his horse was once they crossed the threshold of Sherwood Forest.

The forest canopy above was so lush and green this time of year that almost no sunlight filtered in. It was dark and quiet, but not silent, and it was less eerie for that. Leaves and twigs crunched beneath his horse's heavy, iron-shod steps and a breeze rustled the treetops. Birds sang out in chorus, a few at the time dotting branches that he passed below, looking at him without concern. If they had no need to be on edge, neither did he.

It had been many years since he had ventured into these woods, and the mantle of Sheriff was one that he hadn't had last time he was here. He was growing into it, and this was to be his first big accomplishment.

The men he had sent the day before had returned dumbfounded and not victorious and unable to explain what had happened. Their witnessing of the event was just as unreliable and varied. But overall, the tone was the same as the one others that had passed through the forest reported: a sense of dread and then a shadow. Within moments, their money and valuables had been absconded with, occasionally their horses or clothing, but almost no harm had ever come to anyone.

When witnesses had seen this 'phantom', they had only been able to agree on a handful of details. It was tall, dark, and fast. The similarities ended there. Some said it was the breadth of a bear, other said its head was topped with the horns of the devil, and others still that it could change its shape into that of a wolf. And Flynn only assumed their minds had been playing tricks on them. The things that had gone missing spoke of not the supernatural or spiritual, but of a flesh and blood man, of a thief, and if he was here, Flynn would find him.

Deeper into the wood he urged his horse, trying to keep calm the beast's ever growing panic. Into the heart of the forest, where the ambient sounds were muffled by the trees and where the light of day was nearly gone and the shadows of the forest drew in at him from all sides. It was little wonder that this place spooked the locals and passers-through. Flynn couldn't deny that fear wasn't clinging to his own skin, pocking his arms beneath his gauntlets.

The 'plish' of his horse's hooves in a puddle caused him to tense, and his horse bucked back in surprise.

"Easy. Easy." He ran his hand along its neck and whispered to soothe it. It snorted and paced and flicked its tail. He could feel its pulse racing through the leather of his gloves.

He must have been mistaken. There hadn't been a flash of black across the trail. It had only been his mind playing tricks on him. Fear had kept him sharp during the war and it would do the same here. They continued, in spite of the shadow following them. Or was there more than one? They were probably just animals. The forest had been the home of a pack of wolves for as long as his family had lived here, and probably longer, not to mention the sheer number of deer and other prey animals that dwelt within this realm. Flynn had fought in the Crusades and come back alive and there was no way he was going to let some 'phantom' flitting among the trees spook him further. He would uncover its truth.

The woods all around him grew stark and silent, beyond the clop of his horse's feet, and the thunder of his own pulse in his ears. The expanse of that silence was unfathomable, like there wasn't another living soul beyond himself for miles.

_Snap._

He spun, tensed, hand on the grip of his sword while he held tight the reins with the other. His horse bucked again, letting out a sharp sound of fright.

"Who is there?" He said into the silence.

There was no reply.

"In the name of the King, show yourself!" Flynn squashed the panic in his voice and tried to ease the horse once more even though he was just as on edge. "By my power as the Sheriff of Nottingham, I, Flynn Scifo, demand your immediate compliance.”

Still only silence filled the space between the trees, but the weight of the air lifted, less heavy and less dark. And the shadow that had been trailing them was gone.

Flynn dismounted, tethering his horse to a low hanging branch. It had calmed as well, and while it grazed, he took a moment to pace the trail. The soft ground was marred with horse tracks, his own, and faint wagon trails. Intermittently, the marks of the usual forest fauna. The strange ones were human, different from his own which were characterized by hard metal sabatons that covered his boots. These were nearly the same size but softer, with less of a rigid edge to their form. Hunters wore boots like these to minimize the sounds they made while stalking, but there was no hunter for miles that would have come this far into the heart of the forest with the current goings-on. But someone had been here, and recently. Perhaps his shadow had feet after all, which only gave credence to his theory. Why would a ghost or phantom need to walk with a man's feet, or a god need to wear man's boots? This was a man, flesh and blood.

Satisfied in that knowledge for the time being, Flynn mounted his own horse and headed out of the forest. No shadow followed and no darkness weighed on him.

 

* * *

 

As interesting as all that had been, he had places to be. The abbey on the eastern edge of the forest most notably, and the lone member of the clergy that called it home.

Being out of the forest and into the full light of day was almost shocking. He and his partner spent so much time safe within the fortress of nature, waiting for their next victim to pass through that he could easily forget the warmth of the sun on his skin. Today had been unsuccessful as far the hunt went, but days previous had been fruitful. The story of the forest was spreading fast and keeping travelers from passing through in quite the number that they used to. There were still those who saw the shortcut and weighed the danger of it before being a fool and passing through anyway.

The treeline gave way to the edges of a field, and just before it, a tall stone wall that he and his partner scaled with ease. Well, Yuri scaled it. Being a dog, Repede had far less aptitude with climbing, and wriggled through a hole at the bottom of the wall. Either way, they were granted access to the abbey. He still had to watch his back here and sneak around in spite of being in friendly territory. The unfriendly visited here as well, saying their prayers and lightening their purses a coin or two in the name of the Lord before passing through the forest. By the time Yuri was done with them, their greedy fingers were empty.

It was quiet, but not unnervingly so. It was a calm quiet, not like the forest, but pious and it made him feel a fraction less a sinner while he walked this hollowed ground.

Repede padded ahead, dropping his head in a trough meant for horses to drink from. Safe in the knowledge that they were largely alone, Yuri stopped for a drink from the well. If there was need to be worried, Repede would have let him know without a doubt.

The chapel was their destination, a stone and log and thatched roof building with a single stained glass window beyond the altar. Images of the Lord decorated the sides above the modest and empty pews, and the ever burning candles filled the hall with a thin haze of smoke. He stopped at the collection box and emptied his pocket of the few coins there and strode into the chapel.

"Rita?"

A pair of muffled voices and the rustle of fabric turned his head to the wooden confessional box behind him. He waited patiently, watching as the latch on the first of the two doors rattled and finally gave, sending a russet cloaked female friar tumbling out. She caught her step and spotted him in an instant, and tried not to make a show of the flush in her face as she straightened her brown hair.

"What do you want?" Rita spat, only momentarily drawing his attention away from the exit of another young woman from the same confessional. Her wool cloak hid slightly the splendor of her soft blue dress that stood in contrast to her blossom pink hair. The blush of her face was just as bright, only a tinge redder.

"Yuri!" She rushed to him and threw her arms around him in a grip tight enough to crush bones.

"Hey, take it easy, Estelle." He laughed and kissed the crown of her head and pulled back from her a little. "They haven't caught me yet."

The smack she gave him was tender handed and her hands sagged to take hold of the front of his dark leather jerkin. "I worry for you every day."

"You shouldn't." He gave her a crooked smile. "I'm more at home in those trees than nearly anywhere else. You, on the other hand...."

She blushed harder this time and her eyes darted over to Rita for just a second.

Still smiling, he teased, "How many Hail Marys do you owe for that?"

Estelle fumbled for words, but Rita had them ready.

"As if I bother with all that." There was a slight nervousness under the contempt in her voice.

"Too busy offering up a different sort of prayer?" A sly and feminine voice replied before Yuri could. With a strum of her lute, the purple haired woman leaning in the doorway announced her presence.

Judith was voluptuous and fair, her curves accentuated by the bodice she wore perhaps a size too small. But far beyond her lovely figure, she was strong and cunning and among Yuri's most trusted. And she had a particular knack for flustering the abbey's lone attendant.

"T-That's none of your business!" Rita stuttered and tensed, but Judith only smiled as per usual. Rita turned her embarrassed venom back on Yuri. "What are you doing out in the open anyway?!"

"I have a right to come and see how Estelle is. Besides, I'm here on business as well." From within his jerkin, he produced a silk coin purse embroidered with some silly script initial of the nobleman he had taken it from. The weight of the coins within drew the strings of the pouch taut between his fingers. "I hope that you and Judith will see this safely turned to the hands of those who need it."

Rita snatched it from his hand, cupping it in her own and jiggling the coins around. "Is this it?"

Yuri shrugged. "Pickings have been slim today."

"You can blame the new sheriff for that," Judith said. "He is made of much stronger stuff than his predecessor. Pretty handsome, too, I must say."

"What do you know about him?" Estelle asked curiously.

"Not much, I'm afraid, although our beloved Raven will have better luck gathering that information."

"He came into the forest earlier. It looks like he doesn't believe the common rumors of what's happening," Yuri added.

"I shall work harder to spread the tale then, of the black phantom that is the denizen of the wood, an ancient god wreaking his vengeance on those who disturb his forest. Not too hard, of course. We do still want _some_ people passing through. Especially if they're only the wealthy type who wouldn't deign to believe such hogwash."

"I think he's pretty sure that I'm wholly human."

"Hush now." She twisted one of the pegs on the neck of her lute and plucked a string, listening for the sound it made. "The tale worked well enough against his lackeys. Give it time."

She didn't know yet, but it probably wouldn't take long for her to realize that once the truth came out, once he was exposed as an outlaw robbing nobles passing through, things would only get more difficult. It was easier to hunt a man than it was a phantom. And the new sheriff would be the start of that.

"They'll find out eventually and I have no intention of making trouble for you." He squeezed Estelle's hand. "I'll use a false name at that time, because once they realize that I'm no phantom, they'll seek out my truth."

"Robin," Estelle said. "Call yourself 'Robin'."

"Like the bird?" Rita scoffed.

"Yes, but most importantly, like an old spirit of the forest. Robin Goodfellow is a trickster and a merrymaker."

"Too obvious."

"Hmm..." Judith hummed, her fingers dancing over the strings of her lute. "Hm. Robin Goodfellow. Robin Wolfshead. Robin Hood." She smirked. "I rather like it. It'll make a good song."

"It'll do," Yuri said. "I'll hold up the phantom act as long as possible. Until the sheriff gets wise."

Repede padded into the chapel, letting out a sharp, gruff wuff as a warning of unwelcome company approaching.

Yuri pulled back from Estelle, leaving another soft kiss on her head. "Stay safe."

"And you, Robin." Estelle's smile lingered with him even as he left, scaling the back wall and returning to the safety of the forest as the thunder of hoof beats approached.

Their plan was perfect, except for the sheriff already being wise. Yuri had no doubts about that.

 


	2. Chapter 2

After returning home from the hardships of the Crusades, accepting the post of Sheriff had been the last thing that Flynn wanted to do. It had been a necessity though. After all that he had experienced in the Holy Land, he had just wanted a chance to rest and relax, safe within the walls of his family home, but it wasn't to be. His meager inheritance had barely been enough to pay the back taxes on his lands and return them into his ownership. The job was a necessity in order to keep the manor up and running. He would work through it and persevere.

He sunk down in his chair before his chamber fireplace. Old wounds ached after a hard day's work, although his bath had eased the pain a bit. A warm meal was waiting for him down in the dining hall, but he couldn't bring himself to move just yet.

The events that had transpired in the forest that day were still very fresh in his mind and he searched for any clues that he may have _seen_ but not _noticed_. It had all happened so fast, and all he could remember was the shadow among the trees, watching and following him, and the oppressive darkness of the forest that had engulfed him. The terror that had flooded him and tensed him had faded long ago, only brushed upon again when he knew he was going to have to make a second trip into the wood, with a party of men this time. Now that he was sure that a man was behind the recent string of thefts and mayhem, there was far less to fear than the wrath of a forsaken god.

Flynn could only wonder what a man's motive for such actions was. Greed was the most likely, but it wasn't easy to miss someone in this town who had a good deal of coin in his pocket. Taxes were steep now as the kingdom was trying to fill its coffers after the disaster that the Crusades were proving to be. Far less than half of his fellow knights had returned alive, and even less than that were whole. Flynn had been lucky. He had prayed everyday to come home safely and here he was, even if the war had changed him and his home.

A sharp rap at his door put him on edge, but he eased. "Come in."

The elderly woman who entered was more of a second mother than a servant. Kindly and wise, she had worked for his family as long as he could remember. She was one of the few he had been able to recover, as they had all been spread throughout the province after the death of his parents.

"I brought you up supper, young master." She smiled ever so sweetly and set a tray down on the low table beside him. Simple stew and day old bread was enough to sate his hunger. A pitcher of watered wine accompanied it that would quench his thirst and ease him into a restful slumber.

"Thank you, Grandmother." He had always called her that. She had been his mother's nanny, and the only grandmother he had ever known.

"You'll be happy to know that we recovered Phillip and Geoffrey today."

"That's wonderful." Slowly, ever so slowly, he was piecing his only remaining, and scattered, family back together. "Any word on --?" He couldn't bring himself to say the name, but she knew who he meant.

"Not yet. With luck, soon though."

He nodded and tried to keep up hope. It was all he had.

She left him and he ate, much less wolfishly than he felt and drank his wine before crawling into bed. But he found no rest there. The sheets were suffocatingly warm like the desert and no matter how he turned or twisted, there was no position that would allow him more than the briefest moment of closed eyes. Something was nagging him, and he couldn't shake it.

It was the forest. It had changed from the days he had run through it as a child, carefree and wild. It had changed. It was a place of fear that no human could safely traverse. He had never felt fear there like he had felt this day. Was it the fear of change?

Either way, Flynn knew one thing. The forest had changed and he had, too.

 

* * *

 

Morning brought him some relief, and a bowl of porridge and a tray of fruit in the kitchen with the servants livened his spirit. They were all so happy to be back, to have Flynn back, that it was impossible not to get caught up in their good cheer. Other nobles might find it demeaning to eat with their servants, but Flynn couldn't ask for better company. With a familial warmth that he had missed, they saddled up his horse and sent him off to work.

Nottingham was quiet but growing now, a peaceful place but not unaffected by the tides of war in the east. The problem of Sherwood Forest was taking its toll as well and hurting business that traveled through. Of course, it was making the prince, Cumore, and his court in the nearby castle none too happy either. But Sherwood Forest was far from the closest problem. The ever growing tax rate was weighing heavily as well.

As he entered the guard station, he was reminded just how heavy that weight was on the people of Nottingham.

"I-I'm sorry! I just don't have the money!" The elderly man stammered, shrinking back from the encroaching city guards.

"I say, your taxes were due yesterday!" Adeccor, tall and lanky, said, reaching for the man's arm.

"What's going on here?" Flynn's voice turned their heads his way and he strode into the room.

"This man refuses to pay his taxes!" Short and stout Boccos added.

"It-It's not that, your Lordship! I _cannot_ pay my taxes."

Flynn resisted sighing. "Adeccor, Boccos, you are dismissed for the moment."

Neither of them liked him, but they obeyed, leaving the room in favor of ducking into the small armory at their disposal. Flynn took a seat at his rickety wooden desk, and with one hand, motioned for the man to sit across from him. He sat shakily, settling old bones carefully into the wooden chair.

"Please explain the situation."

"Last month, my wife died and being as old as I am, its been so hard keeping up with the shop, and my profits haven't been what they ought to. I want to do right by His Majesty, but I can barely feed myself."

The war wasn't here, but the shock wave of its effects were more widespread than the fighting itself. "I understand, but my hands are tied. I can give you another week at most to come up with the money." He hated this part of his job. It felt wrong, but he had to do it anyway. "In the meantime, I will speak with Prince Cumore regarding the tax rates. I know that things are hard on everyone."

"Thank you kindly, Sheriff." A wizened hand cupped one of his own and the old man hobbled out, leaving Flynn to sag against his desk with a sigh.

"Sir, if I may be so bold?" Leblanc, a soldier in the service of the city as long as Flynn could remember, stomped in. He couldn't help his big feet and heavy gait.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"The money from the taxes is going to help our king, who fights in the Crusades, and yet you allow people to not pay?"

"I understand where the money is going and why, but in this town, it is a limited resource. People need money to eat, to afford necessities like medicine, and we cannot keep trying to draw blood out of something that is already near dead. And all that I did was give him a little more time."

"He is the tenth person this week."

"What with the goings on in Sherwood and the war in the Holy Land, things are difficult even here on the home front."

"I understand, sir." The mountain of a man couldn't seem to bring himself to disagree. The middle class were also feeling the heavy burden of the cost of war. It couldn't have been easy on his family either.

"Sheriff?" Boccos and Adeccor returned and Flynn held back another frustrated sigh. They rarely brought him any good news.

"Yes?"

"I say... His Royal Highness, the Prince, has sent word of his imminent arrival in Nottingham Shire this afternoon."

And that was the last thing Flynn needed right now.

* * *

 

He kept to the trees, moving from branch to branch with the ease of the wind, following the trail traced by his partner down below on the forest floor. Yuri was endlessly at home in the forest, in the trees, and this place held no fear for him. But it took a particular sort of rustling, not that of Repede brushing by a shrub, but of feet, to set him on edge.

He pulled the hood he wore up over the peak of his brow and crouched close the trunk of the tree and held his breath. Down below, Repede crouched low similarly, head flush with the ground to peer around the roots of a bush. But the figure that appeared on the path was one that he didn't have worry for, a fact made concrete by Repede springing from the bush to greet the brightly dressed fellow.

"Heya pooch." Raven scratched behind the dog's ears and, with trained eyes, easily spotted Yuri's perch in the tree above. "Heya, lad."

"Hey, old man." Yuri eased, sitting on the branch. "Is it too much to hope for some good new this time?"

"I think you'll be very excited for his news."

"Oh?"

"A big fat pig is comin' through the forest this afternoon."

"What's this pig look like?" They weren't talking about an animal.

"Heavy with gold and ill-gotten coin and wearing a crown that doesn't belong to him."

The news brought Yuri out of the tree and padding quickly over the leafy forest floor. "The Prince?"

"The same. The swine who is the brother of the lion. From the looks of his caravan, he's probably brought a fair portion of the royal coffers along with him," Raven smirked, tapping one foot.

"How did you manage getting him this way?" This was the biggest target that Yuri could have hoped for, and ultimately, the heart of his reason for doing this.

"Didn't take much. This path is faster. Also, the idea of running into a colony of lepers on the other road didn't seem to appeal to him." There were no lepers. That was the point. "Whaddya gonna do?"

"Go for the hunt, of course." Yuri couldn't help but smirk. "Looks like the people of Nottingham will be eating well this week."

"And they'll be glad for it," Judith added, coming up the path with a young boy dressed in green and brown clothing, and with a huge bag hanging from one shoulder.

"How are things looking in town, Karol?” Yuri asked, leaning back into the tree.

"Quiet this morning, but the buzz around town that the Prince is arriving has gotten the guards in a tizzy," the boy explained. "I don't know about this new Sheriff."

"What do you mean?"

"He seems, well, _nice_." Karol frowned. "I went to deliver some money to the baker and he said that the Sheriff gave him a few more days to come up with the tax money. The blacksmith and the spinner said the same thing."

"They do speak rather highly of our young new Sheriff," Judith said.

"Nice or not, he's still working for _them_. It's only a matter of time before his good intentions are revealed for what they really are." Yuri didn't really want to believe that, any of it, but the evidence was mounting. He wanted to be wrong.

Beside him, Repede growled, a long, low sound that caused Yuri's hand to find his bow. Just beyond the sound, the squeal of wagon wheels and the tromp of hooves along a dirt road echoed against the trees.

Without a word, everyone moved back, and Yuri and Raven took to the trees. Karol scouted forward on the path through the brush. Judith donned her own hood and hefted her staff, a pole topped with a wicked and curved blade. Yuri notched an arrow and waited, eyes fixed on the point where the road disappeared into the green of the forest, waiting for what would be his mark. The woods went completely silent beyond the sounds of the carriage approaching, and his ears filed only with his quickening pulse and short, shallow breaths.

The flash of a blade in Karol's hand caught his vision and he waited still. A second flash came a only a breath before the carriage rounded up the path, grand gold and white. It was certainly something befitting the Royal Family, and the gilded crest of the rampant lion with a crown and a sword on the front proved that it was.

His mouth went dry. His pulse raced. He wasn't nervous. He was in his element, waiting for the moment.

It came in a flash and they descended on the carriage in a flurry. The few guards there hadn't expected them, and although well trained, were easily dispatched.

Once the initial assault had ebbed, Yuri traded his long bow for a sword and leaped from the tree to the top of the carriage. Judith had the driver locked in a parry, leaving Yuri free to continue to the root of the problem in the carriage below. The guards were starting to recover, but Karol and Raven handled them with ease. He jumped down, taking a fistful of silken curtain in hand.

The shrill shriek came even before he pulled it open, and once he had, he was met with a pale face framed in periwinkle hair, a noble, nay, royal face, a mask of terror. Yuri smirked. He relished the sight of the young man clad in robes and furs and finest silk trembling at the very sight of him.

"Good day, Your Highness," Yuri hissed, raising his sword.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The day had been long and stressful enough without being called to Nottingham Castle under the order of the prince. Flynn hadn't been happy to see the face of Alexei of Gisborn, bearing the prince's order, but he didn't argue with his former commander, and followed along dutifully. 'Treason' was an offense that got thrown around very easily these days.

When they arrived, Nottingham Castle was abuzz with strange chatter and hushed whispers. But none of them were about him. He did, however, hear the topic of Sherwood Forest come up more than once.

He was led to the grand banquet hall, a stone walled room where the prince would no doubt be enjoying the feast for his arrival, a series of tables so heavily laden with lavish food that they bowed in the middles. Noble people from throughout the province were seated there, waiting for the prince's favor, or his rage. By right, Flynn should have been there, but as it was, he was a little more than a landowner at this point. He didn't care for these people. They were not his people.

Prince Cumore was a young man, slight and pale, slumped back in a cushioned throne. Beside him sat a noble lady of the court, his cousin, the Lady Estellise, who lived in the palace. Her soft and kind presence was the light of the court, but the prince was another story entirely. It took only one look at him to see that he was currently of ill temper, a grimace that only grew worse when Alexei announced Flynn's arrival. The court assembled all grew hushed, eyes fixed on Flynn.

"Presenting Lord Flynn Scifo, of House Scifo, and the Honorable Sheriff of Nottingham." Those words sounded so cold on Alexei's tongue.

Flynn knelt to bow before his liege and poisoned words followed quickly, not from his own mouth, but from the prince's.

"Do you know what happened in Sherwood Forest today, Sheriff?"

He refrained from answering. The prince would do that for him. Silence was the intelligent response.

"My carriage was attack and my very life threatened!" A heavily ringed hand slammed against the wooden banquet table before him. "And what are you doing about it?!"

"My men and I have been investigating the forest. The townspeople fear it. Some say it is a ghost, other a god, but we have yet--"

"It's a _man_ , you blundering fool! They were a group of bandits and I demand that you capture every last one of them! I want to see them hanged!"

"Of course, Your Highness."

"Get out of my sight."

_Gladly_. Flynn thought, but held his tongue as he stood and made his way back to to the door.

The door of the banquet hall shut quickly behind him and he couldn't have been happier to be separated from the din of the court that followed him out. A surge of hot anger kept him walking toward the courtyard. The people within the hall, the nobles dressed lavishly and the prince, they had no idea. They were clueless of the real world, of real horror. They hadn't seen battle like he had, hadn't barely returned from a pointless war, hadn't worked a day in their lives or fought for what they believed in.

But he couldn't be too angry with their disillusionment. He had once been that naive, he had once believed he could never know anything but happiness. But now he was here, and it had been years since he lost his naivety, or been truly happy.

Prince Cumore was at least able to confirm what Flynn had suspected, and that would take the fear out of his men. Tomorrow, he would plan another expedition into the forest, and prepare to deal with those bandits.

"Sheriff, please wait."

He turned and found Lady Estellise rushing behind him in an attempt to catch up. "What can I do for you, Your Ladyship?"

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry about His Highness," she said, although she had no reason to apologize on his behalf.

"It's quite all right."

"Do you have a plan to catch this bandit of Sherwood?" She asked, and then flushed, pressing a hand to her mouth. "Forgive my boldness, but I am so dreadfully curious. I hear the court speak of this phantom whom the people call Robin Hood."

"Robin Hood, you say? I suppose it's only natural to be curious with all the rumors going around, but as far as a plan, I'm not sure yet. A thorough investigation is in order first. I will find the man responsible for these crimes so that this town may rest peacefully." He didn't have much else to go on.

"Oh, would you please tell me if you find out more? I am simply dying to know." Being cooped up in the castle must have made her desperate for some thrill beyond the lady-like pursuits she endured here. But he would humor her. She was kind and it would do no harm.

"Certainly, Your Ladyship."

"Thank you kindly," She took a step back. "If you will excuse me, Sheriff. I feel I am long overdue for a restful night's sleep. As I am sure you are."

"Then I will bid you a good evening, Your Ladyship." He bowed and watched her walk away down the long, stone corridor toward her quarters in the eastern wing.

From the hall, he passed into the courtyard, through carefully maintained gardens and past the stables. Guards stood vigil there, double on duty, probably placed there by the paranoid prince. 

Flynn made it all the way through the courtyard and to the front gate before he noticed. he had been so preoccupied with his own thoughts about this Robin Hood that he hadn't noticed the light shinning on the balcony of the east wing, or that shadow standing there before Lady Estellise. It wasn't a guard and he knew that an unmarried lady should not have had visitors at this time of night. Rather than go immediately, he ducked into the shadow of a tree in the courtyard and watched and waited.

* * *

 

The castle walls were better built than those of the abbey, certainly taller, but no less climbable. The even placement of the stones and their strength actually made it easier. And once he was over the outer wall, the room he needed to be in was a short drop aided by a rope. The whole affair took him less than a half an hour and he had never been spotted.

She always kept a lantern lit for him, a guiding light even though his eyes were well accustomed to the dark. 

His feet hit the balcony and he crept forward, pulling aside one of the flimsy curtains the separated the sanctity of her world, her innocence, from the truth of his beyond. Being a noblewoman gave Estelle this luxury, although she rarely acted the part of the typical noble. She was just as poised and graceful, but she was kind and soft, and not without her own streak of toughness.

She was seated in a chair beside the fire, a bit of embroidery in her hand, but as her eyes came up to meet his, she tossed it aside and dashed to embrace him. Her forehead pressed against his shoulder and her arms wrapped tight around his chest.

"You shouldn't have come." She said that every time. "There are places far safer where we can meet."

"Don't worry so much for me."

"I can't help it."

He kissed the crown of her head.

"They know."

"It was only a matter of time. Judith has already started a ballad for Robin Hood."

"It'll be popular." She pulled back and smiled brightly. "Come and sit by the fire. I have some mulled wine."

She moved back to her seat and tucked the embroidery hoop away. Motioning for him to sit, she poured him a wooden goblet of strongly spiced wine, and then sat herself. He took a seat there in the cushioned chair by the fire, a far cry from the logs or branches that were his usual seats.

"I heard about your exploits today." She smiled a little as she raised one of the goblets to her mouth to drink. "The prince was positively livid."

"Good," Yuri smiled. It was what he had hoped for.

"It's only going to get more dangerous from here on out. They know you're a human."

"It doesn't mean they'll be any more capable of catching me."

"Yuri, please be careful. The Sheriff is planning a more thorough investigation of the forest, and I believe that he's going to start as soon as tomorrow."

"He won't find me."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I'll hide where he'll never think to look." His hand fumbled inside of his jerkin, fingers touching the edge of the book he kept nestled safely there. Pulling back from it and all that it held, he took a long gulp of his wine.

"I'll try to keep getting information from him."

"Be careful."

"He doesn't suspect anything." Like all the others, he must have seen her only as some empty headed, naive little noble girl, with a touch more curiosity than was wholly good for her. "Besides, he seems like a genuinely well-meaning man."

He took another long sip. "Yeah, I keep hearing that." He could only hope it was actually true. And how hard did he hope.

Hopes dissolved in warm, spiced wine. The candle hadn't burned long when he stood to go.

"Must you leave already?" 

"Wouldn't want anyone getting suspicious. Besides, it's unseemly for a man to be in a young lady's quarters."

She smacked him playfully, but her smiling face turned somber. "I know why you do what you do. It doesn't make me any less sick with worry. I wish I could do more to help you."

"You've done plenty. Your support is--"

The wooden door to her chamber rattled beneath the knock of a metal fist, and then a second time, softer.

"Lady Estellise." A feminine voice came through to door. "Is everything all right?"

"Oh, yes," Estelle called back, pulling away from him.

"The Sheriff is here to see you. Will you receive him?"

She looked to him, panicked for a moment, her voice frozen.

"Go ahead," he whispered as soft as a breeze. "Don't want to make him suspicious." He stepped back into the balcony curtains, shrouding himself in the darkness of the night and fabric. He was probably well hidden enough to eavesdrop for a moment.

"Certainly. Please come in."

Yuri recognized the copper haired woman who opened the door and allowed the sheriff entrance. She was Sodia, Estelle's lady-in-waiting. but she was the least of his concerns now, not that the way her purple eyes scanned the room wasn't worrying in its own way.

"Sheriff, what brings you?"

"Just concern for your well being. I saw a shadow on your balcony just moments ago and wanted to make sure that you were safe. I am worried that someone may have been sneaking in."

"A shadow? Oh my. I can assure you that I have been alone since Sodia left me half an hour ago."

"Would you mind terribly if I took a look around? If for no other treason than to ease my conscience."

That was Yuri's cue to leave. Before Estelle could answer, he was scrambling up the wall and over the roof, drawing his rope up behind him. He waited, crouched on the ledge of the roof and listened further. There was the rustle of fabric and click of boots on stone, the soft breath of a sigh and then Estelle's voice.

"See? You must just be tired. You should get some rest and take care of yourself. You have such an important job and I know you cannot afford to fall ill."

"Yes," the sheriff said, resignedly, his hands planted on the railing of the stone balcony. He watched the courtyard below carefully, but did not look up. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you. I beg your pardon." He stepped back out of Yuri's sight.

"Oh, it's quite all right. I know you only mean the best."

"Yes. Thank you, and goodnight."

He heard the door close, but Yuri wasn't about to take the chance to sneak down again. It had been a close call, and he was best off heading back to the forest now.

 

* * *

 

Soft and quiet and dark, Sherwood Forest at night would have put fear in the hearts of lesser men, but not Yuri. Repede met him on the path he traversed to reach the castle, and together they strode through the darkness toward the scent of cooking and a single, shining light, like fox-fire drifting between trees. But it was not ghostly fox-fire, but real, a warm and bright campfire that greeted them. The smiling faces around it were just as much as comfort against the chill that had settled in him in the castle with his close call.

"And here returns our shining hero," Judith said in a sing-song voice as she reclined against a fallen log before the fire. "How did your most secretive of meetings go? Certainly our fair lady was pleased to see you."

"The sheriff kept us from talking much."

"Did he see you?" Karol asked. He kept stirring the pot over the fire, where the delicious scent of cooking was emanating from.

Yuri slouched down into the grassy spot between the roots of a tree. "No. At least not well. He said that he saw a 'shadow', but Estelle convinced him that his eyes were playing tricks on him."

"Cutting it awfully close, aren't ya?" Raven whistled from his perch on the bridge that ran between the wood and thatched houses built into the trees above the campsite. Just as the bridge, they were old and creaked and sagged and swayed with the wind, but steady enough to serve their purpose.

"Yeah, but the prince told them all I'm a flesh and blood man and not some phantom. It's not as if he's seen my face."

"What's the big deal about him not seeing your face?" Rita emerged from the brush, hefting a bag over one shoulder. "So what if he sees your face?"

"It's too much trouble," Yuri waved her off. "They'll put up wanted posters with my likeness and if they see me around town, any disguise I might have will be ineffective."

"You never go into town," Judith said. "Besides, the people of Nottingham want to know what their savior looks like."

"So they can turn ya in," Raven was jesting, and they all knew that, but part of Yuri worried about that. The rest of the worry had nothing to do with being turned in so much as being recognized.

"Just make something up."

"Hmm." Judith hummed along with the soft strum of her lute. "Tresses like coal and eyes of stone? The temperament of fire. Son of the horned god."

"Son of the devil," Rita scoffed.

"Son of the devil then," The minstrel humored her. "Eyes of blazing stone maybe?"

"Cloven feet! And big antlers!" Karol added playfully.

"Those superstitious things won't work anymore. The prince's men will have posters of me out tomorrow anyway."

"Oh, they already have them." Rita pulled a piece of rolled parchment from her bag and tossed it to him over the fire. "Care of the blacksmith. He and the tailor and the baker sent along a thank you. Hell, half the village did." She dropped the bag and revealed the wealth of things within.

Karol dug in, in spite of the smack to the face that Rita gave him. A dagger and arrow heads, bits of steel fashioned into charms, boots and belts and old and worn clothing, but in fair enough condition. Leftover food was also there, mostly day old bread and cheese, a few bottles of old, stale mead. Yuri couldn't have asked for more. He didn't even want to accept these gifts of kindness, the only physical response the people of Nottingham could give him. But he would accept them gratefully, and they would aid his cause.

As the others sat, sifting through items, picking off bits off half stale bread to chew on while the stew was bubbling. He unrolled the parchment. The block cut image on the wanted poster was almost laughable. Apparently the prince and his guards hadn't gotten as good a look at him as he had feared.

"It looks like the prince saw horns," Karol leaned over, dropping a shower of crumbs from his mouth when he smiled,.

"I think that's supposed to be my hood."

"Your hood doesn't have pointy bits like that."

"Well, the person who did the sketch is obviously a master of the human form," Yuri replied with a sarcastic laugh. "My nose isn't near that large."

"And he couldn't have seen your ears with your hood on."

"Oh, but he got the teeth just right," Judith said, having leaned over as well. She pointed out the ridiculously sharp teeth, like the maw of a beast, that lined the inside of the drawing's mouth. "And that steely gaze." Those squinty eyes glared at him with a fiery menace, painted bright red.

"The likeness is uncanny," Yuri chuckled. "I think I'll keep this. It's too good to just throw away." He started to fold it up, carefully creasing it in half, and then in quarters. He tucked it into the book he kept in his jerkin, pressed tight against the back cover.

"Keep laughing," Rita hissed. "Someone will put this together with your actual stupid face and then where will you be? Hanging from the gallows."

"Or with your head on a pike," Raven laughed.

"Nay, they reserve that for the noble prisoners of war," Judith replied.

"Are you saying that I'm not 'noble'?"

"It isn't as if you're of actual noble blood," Rita said.

"The 'noblest' outlaw!" Karol nearly doubled over with laughter.

"Fair enough," Yuri said with a happy sigh. "The noblest outlaw."

 

 

The day had been long and stressful enough without being called to Nottingham Castle under the order of the prince. Flynn hadn't been happy to see the face of Alexei of Gisborn, bearing the prince's order, but he didn't argue with his former commander, and followed along dutifully. 'Treason' was an offense that got thrown around very easily these days.

When they arrived, Nottingham Castle was abuzz with strange chatter and hushed whispers. But none of them were about him. He did, however, hear the topic of Sherwood Forest come up more than once.

He was led to the grand banquet hall, a stone walled room where the prince would no doubt be enjoying the feast for his arrival, a series of tables so heavily laden with lavish food that they bowed in the middles. Noble people from throughout the province were seated there, waiting for the prince's favor, or his rage. By right, Flynn should have been there, but as it was, he was a little more than a landowner at this point. He didn't care for these people. They were not his people.

Prince Cumore was a young man, slight and pale, slumped back in a cushioned throne. Beside him sat a noble lady of the court, his cousin, the Lady Estellise, who lived in the palace. Her soft and kind presence was the light of the court, but the prince was another story entirely. It took only one look at him to see that he was currently of ill temper, a grimace that only grew worse when Alexei announced Flynn's arrival. The court assembled all grew hushed, eyes fixed on Flynn.

"Presenting Lord Flynn Scifo, of House Scifo, and the Honorable Sheriff of Nottingham." Those words sounded so cold on Alexei's tongue.

Flynn knelt to bow before his liege and poisoned words followed quickly, not from his own mouth, but from the prince's.

"Do you know what happened in Sherwood Forest today, Sheriff?"

He refrained from answering. The prince would do that for him. Silence was the intelligent response.

"My carriage was attack and my very life threatened!" A heavily ringed hand slammed against the wooden banquet table before him. "And what are you doing about it?!"

"My men and I have been investigating the forest. The townspeople fear it. Some say it is a ghost, other a god, but we have yet--"

"It's a _man_ , you blundering fool! They were a group of bandits and I demand that you capture every last one of them! I want to see them hanged!"

"Of course, Your Highness."

"Get out of my sight."

 _Gladly_. Flynn thought, but held his tongue as he stood and made his way back to to the door.

The door of the banquet hall shut quickly behind him and he couldn't have been happier to be separated from the din of the court that followed him out. A surge of hot anger kept him walking toward the courtyard. The people within the hall, the nobles dressed lavishly and the prince, they had no idea. They were clueless of the real world, of real horror. They hadn't seen battle like he had, hadn't barely returned from a pointless war, hadn't worked a day in their lives or fought for what they believed in.

But he couldn't be too angry with their disillusionment. He had once been that naive, he had once believed he could never know anything but happiness. But now he was here, and it had been years since he lost his naivety, or been truly happy.

Prince Cumore was at least able to confirm what Flynn had suspected, and that would take the fear out of his men. Tomorrow, he would plan another expedition into the forest, and prepare to deal with those bandits.

"Sheriff, please wait."

He turned and found Lady Estellise rushing behind him in an attempt to catch up. "What can I do for you, Your Ladyship?"

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry about His Highness," she said, although she had no reason to apologize on his behalf.

"It's quite all right."

"Do you have a plan to catch this bandit of Sherwood?" She asked, and then flushed, pressing a hand to her mouth. "Forgive my boldness, but I am so dreadfully curious. I hear the court speak of this phantom whom the people call Robin Hood."

"Robin Hood, you say? I suppose it's only natural to be curious with all the rumors going around, but as far as a plan, I'm not sure yet. A thorough investigation is in order first. I will find the man responsible for these crimes so that this town may rest peacefully." He didn't have much else to go on.

"Oh, would you please tell me if you find out more? I am simply dying to know." Being cooped up in the castle must have made her desperate for some thrill beyond the lady-like pursuits she endured here. But he would humor her. She was kind and it would do no harm.

"Certainly, Your Ladyship."

"Thank you kindly," She took a step back. "If you will excuse me, Sheriff. I feel I am long overdue for a restful night's sleep. As I am sure you are."

"Then I will bid you a good evening, Your Ladyship." He bowed and watched her walk away down the long, stone corridor toward her quarters in the eastern wing.

From the hall, he passed into the courtyard, through carefully maintained gardens and past the stables. Guards stood vigil there, double on duty, probably placed there by the paranoid prince. 

Flynn made it all the way through the courtyard and to the front gate before he noticed. he had been so preoccupied with his own thoughts about this Robin Hood that he hadn't noticed the light shinning on the balcony of the east wing, or that shadow standing there before Lady Estellise. It wasn't a guard and he knew that an unmarried lady should not have had visitors at this time of night. Rather than go immediately, he ducked into the shadow of a tree in the courtyard and watched and waited.

 

The castle walls were better built than those of the abbey, certainly taller, but no less climbable. The even placement of the stones and their strength actually made it easier. And once he was over the outer wall, the room he needed to be in was a short drop aided by a rope. The whole affair took him less than a half an hour and he had never been spotted.

She always kept a lantern lit for him, a guiding light even though his eyes were well accustomed to the dark. 

His feet hit the balcony and he crept forward, pulling aside one of the flimsy curtains the separated the sanctity of her world, her innocence, from the truth of his beyond. Being a noblewoman gave Estelle this luxury, although she rarely acted the part of the typical noble. She was just as poised and graceful, but she was kind and soft, and not without her own streak of toughness.

She was seated in a chair beside the fire, a bit of embroidery in her hand, but as her eyes came up to meet his, she tossed it aside and dashed to embrace him. Her forehead pressed against his shoulder and her arms wrapped tight around his chest.

"You shouldn't have come." She said that every time. "There are places far safer where we can meet."

"Don't worry so much for me."

"I can't help it."

He kissed the crown of her head.

"They know."

"It was only a matter of time. Judith has already started a ballad for Robin Hood."

"It'll be popular." She pulled back and smiled brightly. "Come and sit by the fire. I have some mulled wine."

She moved back to her seat and tucked the embroidery hoop away. Motioning for him to sit, she poured him a wooden goblet of strongly spiced wine, and then sat herself. He took a seat there in the cushioned chair by the fire, a far cry from the logs or branches that were his usual seats.

"I heard about your exploits today." She smiled a little as she raised one of the goblets to her mouth to drink. "The prince was positively livid."

"Good," Yuri smiled. It was what he had hoped for.

"It's only going to get more dangerous from here on out. They know you're a human."

"It doesn't mean they'll be any more capable of catching me."

"Yuri, please be careful. The Sheriff is planning a more thorough investigation of the forest, and I believe that he's going to start as soon as tomorrow."

"He won't find me."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I'll hide where he'll never think to look." His hand fumbled inside of his jerkin, fingers touching the edge of the book he kept nestled safely there. Pulling back from it and all that it held, he took a long gulp of his wine.

"I'll try to keep getting information from him."

"Be careful."

"He doesn't suspect anything." Like all the others, he must have seen her only as some empty headed, naive little noble girl, with a touch more curiosity than was wholly good for her. "Besides, he seems like a genuinely well-meaning man."

He took another long sip. "Yeah, I keep hearing that." He could only hope it was actually true. And how hard did he hope.

Hopes dissolved in warm, spiced wine. The candle hadn't burned long when he stood to go.

"Must you leave already?"

"Wouldn't want anyone getting suspicious. Besides, it's unseemly for a man to be in a young lady's quarters."

She smacked him playfully, but her smiling face turned somber. "I know why you do what you do. It doesn't make me any less sick with worry. I wish I could do more to help you."

"You've done plenty. Your support is--"

The wooden door to her chamber rattled beneath the knock of a metal fist, and then a second time, softer.

"Lady Estellise." A feminine voice came through to door. "Is everything all right?"

"Oh, yes," Estelle called back, pulling away from him.

"The Sheriff is here to see you. Will you receive him?"

She looked to him, panicked for a moment, her voice frozen.

"Go ahead," he whispered as soft as a breeze. "Don't want to make him suspicious." He stepped back into the balcony curtains, shrouding himself in the darkness of the night and fabric. He was probably well hidden enough to eavesdrop for a moment.

"Certainly. Please come in."

Yuri recognized the copper haired woman who opened the door and allowed the sheriff entrance. She was Sodia, Estelle's lady-in-waiting. but she was the least of his concerns now, not that the way her purple eyes scanned the room wasn't worrying in its own way.

"Sheriff, what brings you?"

"Just concern for your well being. I saw a shadow on your balcony just moments ago and wanted to make sure that you were safe. I am worried that someone may have been sneaking in."

"A shadow? Oh my. I can assure you that I have been alone sine Sodia left me half an hour ago."

"Would you mind terribly if I took a look around? If for no other treason than to ease my conscience."

That was Yuri's cue to leave. Before Estelle could answer, he was scrambling up the wall and over the roof, drawing his rope up behind him. He waited, crouched on the ledge of the roof and listened further. There was the rustle of fabric and click of boots on stone, the soft breath of a sigh and then Estelle's voice.

"See? You must just be tired. You should get some rest and take care of yourself. You have such an important job and I know you cannot afford to fall ill."

"Yes," the sheriff said, resignedly, his hands planted on the railing of the stone balcony. He watched the courtyard below carefully, but did not look up. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you. I beg your pardon." He stepped back out of Yuri's sight.

"Oh, it's quite all right. I know you only mean the best."

"Yes. Thank you, and goodnight."

He heard the door close, but Yuri wasn't about to take the chance to sneak down again. It had been a close call, and he was best off heading back to the forest now.

 

Soft and quiet and dark, Sherwood Forest at night would have put fear in the hearts of lesser men, but not Yuri. Repede met him on the path he traversed to reach the castle, and together they strode through the darkness toward the scent of cooking and a single, shining light, like fox-fire drifting between trees. But it was not ghostly fox-fire, but real, a warm and bright campfire that greeted them. The smiling faces around it were just as much as comfort against the chill that had settled in him in the castle with his close call.

"And here returns our shining hero," Judith said in a sing-song voice as she reclined against a fallen log before the fire. "How did your most secretive of meetings go? Certainly our fair lady was pleased to see you."

"The sheriff kept us from talking much."

"Did he see you?" Karol asked. He kept stirring the pot over the fire, where the delicious scent of cooking was emanating from.

Yuri slouched down into the grassy spot between the roots of a tree. "No. At least not well. He said that he saw a 'shadow', but Estelle convinced him that his eyes were playing tricks on him."

"Cutting it awfully close, aren't ya?" Raven whistled from his perch on the bridge that ran between the wood and thatched houses built into the trees above the campsite. Just as the bridge, they were old and creaked and sagged and swayed with the wind, but steady enough to serve their purpose.

"Yeah, but the prince told them all I'm a flesh and blood man and not some phantom. It's not as if he's seen my face."

"What's the big deal about him not seeing your face?" Rita emerged from the brush, hefting a bag over one shoulder. "So what if he sees your face?"

"It's too much trouble," Yuri waved her off. "They'll put up wanted posters with my likeness and if they see me around town, any disguise I might have will be ineffective."

"You never go into town," Judith said. "Besides, the people of Nottingham want to know what their savior looks like."

"So they can turn ya in," Raven was jesting, and they all knew that, but part of Yuri worried about that. The rest of the worry had nothing to do with being turned in so much as being recognized.

"Just make something up."

"Hmm." Judith hummed along with the soft strum of her lute. "Tresses like coal and eyes of stone? The temperament of fire. Son of the horned god."

"Son of the devil," Rita scoffed.

"Son of the devil then," The minstrel humored her. "Eyes of blazing stone maybe?"

"Cloven feet! And big antlers!" Karol added playfully.

"Those superstitious things won't work anymore. The prince's men will have posters of me out tomorrow anyway."

"Oh, they already have them." Rita pulled a piece of rolled parchment from her bag and tossed it to him over the fire. "Care of the blacksmith. He and the tailor and the baker sent along a thank you. Hell, half the village did." She dropped the bag and revealed the wealth of things within.

Karol dug in, in spite of the smack to the face that Rita gave him. A dagger and arrow heads, bits of steel fashioned into charms, boots and belts and old and worn clothing, but in fair enough condition. Leftover food was also there, mostly day old bread and cheese, a few bottles of old, stale mead. Yuri couldn't have asked for more. He didn't even want to accept these gifts of kindness, the only physical response the people of Nottingham could give him. But he would accept them gratefully, and they would aid his cause.

As the others sat, sifting through items, picking off bits off half stale bread to chew on while the stew was bubbling. He unrolled the parchment. The block cut image on the wanted poster was almost laughable. Apparently the prince and his guards hadn't gotten as good a look at him as he had feared.

"It looks like the prince saw horns," Karol leaned over, dropping a shower of crumbs from his mouth when he smiled,.

"I think that's supposed to be my hood."

"Your hood doesn't have pointy bits like that."

"Well, the person who did the sketch is obviously a master of the human form," Yuri replied with a sarcastic laugh. "My nose isn't near that large."

"And he couldn't have seen your ears with your hood on."

"Oh, but he got the teeth just right," Judith said, having leaned over as well. She pointed out the ridiculously sharp teeth, like the maw of a beast, that lined the inside of the drawing's mouth. "And that steely gaze." Those squinty eyes glared at him with a fiery menace, painted bright red.

"The likeness is uncanny," Yuri chuckled. "I think I'll keep this. It's too good to just throw away." He started to fold it up, carefully creasing it in half, and then in quarters. He tucked it into the book he kept in his jerkin, pressed tight against the back cover.

"Keep laughing," Rita hissed. "Someone will put this together with your actual stupid face and then where will you be? Hanging from the gallows."

"Or with your head on a pike," Raven laughed.

"Nay, they reserve that for the noble prisoners of war," Judith replied.

"Are you saying that I'm not 'noble'?"

"It isn't as if you're of actual noble blood," Rita said.

"The 'noblest' outlaw!" Karol nearly doubled over with laughter.

"Fair enough," Yuri said with a happy sigh. "The noblest outlaw."

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Rain tore away at the town of Nottingham, halting their investigation of Sherwood Forest until after the constant, summer storms ceased. It made the town quiet and his job largely uneventful, beyond having to reinforce the flood protection around the river. Of course, this didn't please the prince, but there wasn't much that could be done. Flynn wasn't pleased either. He wanted to be back in the forest, hunting for the man who was causing all this havoc.

The robbery of the prince had had a nasty side effect, not against the thieves, but against the innocent people of the town. The taxes had risen again and people that had been struggling before were finding it nigh impossible to pay. The prince didn't seem to have much worry for that, though, and through the order of Sir Alexei of Gisborn, any who could not pay were to be arrested. In fact, the jail was quickly filling up with people who had fed their families over feeding the prince's deep pockets. It was the opposite of what Flynn had hoped to accomplish by meeting with the prince. The people were suffering even more, and he was relegated to the task of imprisoning the people he was supposed to be protecting. It made his stomach sour, but his duty bound him.

Although struggling, most were able to make do, passing Flynn nearly every hard earned coin as he and his men were turned from defenders of the realm into glorified tax collectors. He bit back the bitterness welling in him and waited. Once this fiend was caught, once the King was back, things would go back to normal. He only had to bide his time.

It had hardly taken a day for the new rumors about what was going on in Sherwood to surface. Not a spirit or a forsaken god, but a man. Flynn knew that. Some called him the son of the devil, who hid his horns beneath his dark hood, others called him the Outlaw of Sherwood, but the most popular tale painted him as Robin Hood, reminiscent of the Robin Goodfellow from the old folk tales that Flynn remembered his mother and father telling him about an impish prankster. But this was no simple prankster. The name Robin Hood stuck and decorated all the wanted posters that depicted him in a fearsome, devilish manner.

Finally, after a week, the rain stopped and with it, Flynn's hesitation about entering the forest. He had the horses saddled and the guards ready as soon as the sky stopped pouring.

Sherwood Forest was just as dark and quiet as the last time he had entered, treading the path alone atop an addled horse, but there didn't seem to be a presence lurking behind them this time, ducking around tree trunks and through branches to watch them. All was quiet and calm as they tramped along into the heart of the forest. He didn't let his guard down. His hand was ever fixed on his sword. He was ready.

But nothing ever happened. Following the main trail, they reached the far side of the forest without incident, and the road spat them out near Nottingham Abbey. His men were just as bewildered as he was. They had been expecting a fight, a trap, something.

The abbey offered them some respite, and their horses a drink. Maybe the Abbess knew something about the forest. Her vows would keep her from divulging secrets made in confession, but she might be able to at least point him in the right direction. Anything was better than nothing.

Entering the chapel, it was not only the Abbess that he found, but two other all too familiar faces. The Lady Estellise knelt before the Abbess, bent in prayer and receiving communion. A few pews back, Alexei stood, watching the proceedings coldly. There was nothing prompting him to turn to Flynn, but he did just as calmly as could be.

"Sir--" Flynn started, but was silenced by a motion of Alexei pressing a finger to his own lips.

With the wave of his hand, Alexei ushered him out of the chapel's door.

"What are you doing here?"

"Lady Estellise asked to come here for guidance. She stated that something weighs heavily on her. Feminine nonsense, but I couldn't deny the order from the prince to come with her." He cast his gaze back inward. "So, I take it that your search of the forest came up empty."

"I'm afraid so." He didn't like that it was so easy for Alexei to point that out. "Our search is far from over yet."

"I believe that there is a simpler way of luring this 'Robin Hood' out of the forest."

"Do tell."

"I have heard that he is an accomplished archer, and boasts of his skills. Also, from what I've been able to discern, he doesn't back down from a challenge. So we'll have an archery competition. He'll be sure to attend."

"How can you be so sure?"

"It's a matter of setting the proper bait when you hunt for wild animals." Again, his eyes glanced into the chapel, fixed on Lady Estellise in a way that chilled Flynn to the bone. Alexei knew something that he did not, but Flynn had long ago come to terms with the fact that he would never completely understand the shrewd, perhaps sinister, mind that worked behind Alexei's eyes. "In three days time, we will have the tournament, so have your men prepared."

"Of course, sir." This didn't sit right. Something was amiss about this plan.

"From what I recall, you're quite the archer as well. Why not test your skills against the notorious Outlaw of Sherwood?" The smirk that crossed Alexei's lips sickened him, but Flynn didn't back down.

"I might just." If Alexei was planning what Flynn feared, he had no choice, especially with the thought of Lady Estellise's safety on the line. The things which this man was willing to do made Flynn's skin crawl, and he knew that he had only witnessed just an iota of the darkness beneath Alexei's surface.

Further chilling conversation was broken off by Estellise's warm presence. With it, Alexei excused himself to see to her carriage.

"Good day, Sheriff."

"Good day, Your Ladyship."

"How is your investigation going?"

"Slow but steady." It sounded better than it really was.

"I will keep you in my prayers. I know that you wish to resolve this, but please be sure to take care of yourself."

"Of course. Yourself as well." His eyes darted to Alexei, who had mounted his own horse as was waiting near the abbey gate, hoping that she could read the graveness that set heavy in his face. What Alexei intended, what he could mean by setting the 'proper bait' were questions Flynn could not confidently answer yet.

"Thank you." She curtsied. "If you'll excuse me, I must be getting back to the castle."

He watched her walk away and enter the litter where her lady in waiting sat. At Alexei's command, the royal carriage was off and, after watching them disappear from right, Flynn, intent to banish the thoughts and fears so suddenly cast upon him for just a moment, moved into the chapel where the abbess was lighting the myriad of candles that were scattered about the altar.

"What do you want?" She said gruffly, not looking at him.

"I've come to seek guidance."

"Hmph. You, too?"

"Not the divine, but the earthly."

"Well, spit it out."

"You are privy to the words of the people. Have you heard any rumors about this outlaw, Robin Hood?"

She finally turned her teal eyes to him, hard and cold as if studying him. "Only that he's a trouble making thief who robs from any who dare enter his forest. Beyond that, it's only hearsay."

"What fallacies, Abbess."

He turned to find a minstrel in the last pew, turning her lute with long, lithe fingers. She smiled, a foxy grin that told him that she knew more than she would ever let on.

"Do you know of him, Minstrel?" Flynn asked.

"Oh yes, although still mostly rumors." She leaned back and her fingers danced over the lute strings. "Robin Goodfellow. Robin Wolfshead. Robin Hood, most commonly, for that which he uses to hide his face. Some say he's the son of the devil himself, with horns and cloven hoof, but unlike his supposed sire, he has, perhaps, a strange streak of generosity, although he'd never admit that himself. Robin Hood, they say, robs from the rich to feed the poor. He is a master of the bow and the sword. I hear he can best thirty men barehanded. I hear a lot of interesting things."

They were all interesting tales that he had to take with a grain of salt, rumors, but one of them struck a cord in particular.  _Rob from the rich to feed the poor._

"Thank you very much for your time, ladies." He gave a little bow. There was one option now. Back through the forest a second time.

His men were ready at the abbey gate, saddled and prepared for the second ride through the forest, if a little nervous still. He mounted his horse and made for the road.

Bright daylight was quickly leeched away by the density of the canopy, blocking out nearly every ray of sun. Further and further into the darkening wood they rode. Birdsong and the clop of hooves broke the silence in little waves, but the sound that cut through them was unmistakable. The stretch of a silken string, the creak of bending wood. his eyes shot up to follow the sound and he yanked his horse to a rough stop. Behind him, his men did the same, their horses whinnying as they clustered to a halt there in the dusty road. But Flynn's attention was square on the point of the arrow aimed at his heart.

 

* * *

 

The Sheriff was just as sharp as he had expected, finding the intended ambush before Yuri could bother to fire a warning shot. But he still had the advantage and those blue eyes moved from the point of his arrow only up to try and see his face. The hood he wore disguised that. They were at a long, silent standstill before the Sheriff dared to edge his hand toward his sword.

"I'd advise you against that," he said dryly and the Sheriff stopped.

"You must be the notorious Robin Hood." He was very calm for someone who was only meters away from his death. That was admirable.

"The one and only. And you must be the /honorable/ Sheriff of Nottingham."

"I am. Flynn Scifo, son of Finath Scifo."

"Enough with the pleasantries." Yuri wasn't about to be stupid enough to give his true name. "Since you are here, I see that Prince Cumore did not take my warning seriously. I don't like repeating myself."

"What do you hope to accomplish with this lawlessness?"

"I have a feeling you already know."

"Then you already know that what you're doing is committing treason against the crown. You will surrender if you know what's good for you."

"Sorry, Sheriff." He pulled the bowstring back a hair more. "I can't much say a hangman's noose is good for me."

Flynn moved again, masking the sleight of hand to his knife as settling in the saddle, but from behind Yuri, the string of a bow sang out, and its accompanying arrow whizzed past him, finding purchase in the center of the Sheriff's shield. Behind him, Raven was already readying a second shot. Flynn's horse reared and staggered back a few steps, and he took the opportunity to draw his sword.

Just as the other knights started forward, a second arrow flew, and as it passed him, Yuri let his own loose as well. On the ground below, Repede sprung from the bushes, startling the collection of poorly trained farm horses back with his snarling fangs. High above in the trees, Karol loosed the rest of the trap with a snap of a line. A net full of rocks suspended in the canopy dropped, showering the guards.

The Sheriff urged his horse forward, tearing off the edge of the net and blocking the falling rocks with his shield. His sword in hand, shield raised, he charged forward, his horse better trained than the others and less frightened of the massive dog nipping at its legs. He cleared Repede in a jump and came charging at Yuri's perch that hung low over the trail. Yuri scrabbled up to the next branch, notching an arrow and letting it fly. He hated being such a damnably poor shot, but another shot from Raven would at least mask that.

Flynn's broadsword chopped away at the branch. "Get down here and fight!"

"Afraid not, Sheriff." His eyes darted up. Karol had made good his escape, and Repede as well. Raven was already beginning his escape as per the plan, so Yuri followed through.

From his side, he pulled a long, double edged dagger and with a swift slice, cut free the netting hanging in the canopy above him. The heavy shower of leaves and dirt, and another rope net, would disguise his getaway. He looked back only once, finding the Sheriff fighting to be free of the net, coughing up dirt, before he continued to flee into the safety of the trees. Like the others, he moved far from camp, just in case they caught wind of his trail. From the shouting and whinnying and panic drifting away behind him, lost in the forest's ambient sounds, he was not being followed. Still, he kept to the trees, putting as much distance between them and himself and the camp as possible. No sense in letting them get too close. Being that close to the Sheriff was already too close for comfort. He couldn't afford to be caught yet, not when there was so much still to be done.

After losing track of the time and distance between himself and the city guard, Yuri found himself at the edge of the forest, just above the stone wall of the abbey. The courtyard below was clear and he decided to descend once he caught his breath. The sheriff had come from this way, so maybe Rita had some information for him. For now, he settled in against a tree trunk for a brief rest.

"Ho there, Goodfellow."

The sudden musical lilt of Judith's voice from below nearly knocked him form his perch in surprise.

"You're worse than Repede," he hissed, fixing the placement of his feet on the branch.

"As stealthy as you are, I figured you'd be used to it by now."

"Any word from our hot tempered abbess?"

"The sheriff was here earlier."

"I figured. We had a bit of a run in."

She smiled at that, but didn't go on to ask details. "Rita didn't have much to say, but our sweet Lady Estelle did send this for you." From within the folds of her bodice, she pulled a small square of paper, folded tightly. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed it up to him.

He gave the contents a cursory glance before tucking the letter into a pocket within his jerkin. "It looks like we have a lot to discuss tonight."

"Oh, I wouldn't miss it. Rita either. We shall be in attendance, but until then, perhaps you should make yourself scarce. Those traps will only hold them off for so long."

With a nod, and nothing more, Yuri slipped off into the trees.

* * *

 

He was still picking leaves and rocks off his person when he shed his clothing in favor of the tub of hot water readied for his bath. It soothed his muscles, but his mind was still wound tight. Four bandits had bested himself and a dozen city guards with simple guerrilla tactics. Injuries to bodies had been minor, but pride less so. After the bandits' retreat, Flynn had remained on the road, and picked up the evidence of the attack: the rope net, several rocks, and the arrows. The arrows had quickly become his focus.

Initially, only one assailant had made his appearance, wielding a bow. Then a shot had been fired, but as he played the scene over and over again in his head, the first bandit did not fire until after the second shot had come from behind him. In fact, of all the arrows fired in the confusion, there were only two that matched the ones that had been notched in Robin Hood's bow. The fletching of these arrows was dark grey and the archer that had wielded the bow that fired them had been a bad shot at best. Neither of those arrows had made it into a proper target, one hitting the ground and the other a tree well off the path. The second archer had been a marked improvement. His black fletched arrows had struck the center of Flynn's shield, and his second shot only inches before Flynn's horse.

So the person they met on the trail had appeared to be Robin Hood, as much of a match as could be made with exaggerated wanted posters hanging around Nottingham, and he had stated who he was. But if he had shot the two failed arrows as Flynn surmised, he was nowhere near the archer he had been rumored to be. If he had been a skilled one, he could have easily taken Flynn out with a single shot before he was ever seen. In the same vein, the other archer there, with the black fletched arrows, was skilled, immensely so, but he hadn't tried to kill Flynn either. The arrow buried in the center of his shield was a warning, but not a serious attempt on his life. But why? It would have been easy to take him out of the picture if they had wanted to. He didn't like the taste it left in his mouth.

Alexei and Prince Cumore seemed so sure that this Robin Hood would show up for the archery contest, but would he if he was such a poor shot? Would he go merely to trick them? They never would have guessed he was as unskilled as he had shown himself to be. Or was that a trick, too?

Either way, Flynn was expected to attend the competition, and the rumor of his participation was in the air of his manor so quickly that two of the older male servants had pulled his long disused bow out of storage and started teaching the younger ones how to fletch arrows long before he had returned home.

It had been so long since he had held a bow, since the days when his father had lived and taught him how to fight, how to be a young lord, since his family had been scattered to the winds by the ill fortune that had been the Crusades. Slowly, it was being pieced back together, one person at a time. Flynn's father and mother were long gone, but those servants who had been family were steadily returning. All but one, and that one Flynn missed the most.

He and the dark haired boy had been the best of friends, in spite of a rocky start. The day he had arrived had been cold and grey, the blanket of clouds threatening to bring snow upon them before nightfall. He had been as tall as Flynn was that year at seven, but slight in build, with ragged clothes and eyes that flashed angrily like summer's thunderheads. His father had said the boy was to be Flynn's valet, but a playmate as well. Flynn had other servants around his age who he played with, but this boy was different. He had barely spoken a word, and when Flynn had asked, rather stupidly, if he was mute, the boy had descended on him, punching and swearing, a ball of prickly, pent up rage like no child should have known. But Flynn had fought back, at least a little trained in his own defense, and he had won. After that initial tussle, they had become fast friends, spending their summer days running carefree through the woods that people now feared, and winter nights curled up at the fire listening to his father's stories of far off places and great battles. They had been inseparable, and what Flynn had felt for the boy far surpassed their master and servant relationship. The boy had been the closest thing that he had to a brother, but even then Flynn knew it had been more than that.

They had even learned to fight together. The boy had been good with a sword, but had never seemed to have the discipline to master the bow. The little memory that came of the boy fighting simply to keep the arrow notched and straight, to say nothing of actually firing it, made Flynn's stomach ache dully. He had missed the target a dozen times, arrows flying too far or not far enough. But there were many unskilled archers. There was no evidence, which was much less relieving then it should have been. It was all in his head. He couldn't entertain his fears. They were baseless and would only distract him form the task at hand: find Robin Hood and stop him.

The water had long gone tepid when he pulled his aching body out of it, replacing the warmth it once had with a dressing robe as he stood at the window, looking out into the sliver of Sherwood Forest that marked his lands.

"Yuri...."

* * *

 

 

The fire's warmth was a welcome change to the chill of the night air and the roasted meat he and Repede picked off the spit in chunks made his stomach less empty. Soggy, stewed vegetables were less appetizing, but they filled him the same with ends of bread and slabs of cheese. The boar had been a lucky catch on his way back from the abbey, but everything else was care of the villagers as thanks for the little coin he had been able to pass their way in order to ease their lives a bit, and he was as grateful for it as they were.

Yuri licked his fingers clean, wiping them on his pants afterward, and pulled the book out of his jerkin. Its worn leather cover was in tatters from years of being crammed into pockets and the like, and the edges of the reed paper were frayed and crumbling. But as with all books, the inside was the important part. He cracked it open, flipping carefully through the yellowed pages, past small notes and bits of paper like the letter from Estelle and the folded up wanted poster, until he found the spot in the middle of the leaves. The pages there were stained a slight green-brown from that which they protected. Dried there in the fold of the spine of the book, a twisted and dried bit of old greenery sat, its round, flattened shape topped with an equally dry tuft of white-yellow petals. The clover had lasted this long and he couldn't help but smile and think back on brighter days when he saw it. But those brighter days were gone and all that remained of that happiness was this dried relic. He kept it still. Nothing else had ever meant so much to him as this, and now the thought filled him with dread. Was it destiny that things had happened this way and put him here and now? Fate with a cruel sense of humor. How had they both come so far and were now so distant? He had only one hope, and it was dwindling.

“He probably doesn't even remember me.”

"Oh, would those be new plans you're pondering over?" Judith's voice caused him to snap the book shut and stuff it away into his jerkin once more.

"Just debating on the news Estelle sent me."

"Ah yes, the dear Lady Estellise's warning." She settled in beside the fire and helped herself to the roasting boar there.

"A warning? What does it say?" Karol asked as he emerged from the brush, arms heavy laden with bundles of firewood, and Raven a step behind him.

"The Prince has set up an archery contest in hopes that you'll be fool enough to enter." Rita plopped down beside Judith. "With Estelle as a prize."

"The fair maiden's kiss as the prize, dear abbess. With a sizable sum of gold," Judith corrected, to which Rita replied with a grumble around her fingers filling her mouth with food.

"Well, the joke's on them." Yuri smirked, tucking his arms behind his head.

"Yeah, because you're a piss poor shot," Raven chimed in, perched cheerfully on a log. "They'd never know it was you. They're expecting a winner."

"That's why I'm not entering."

"But what about Estelle?" Karol asked.

"She's only in danger if I go and win."

"Are you saying that you have no interest in protecting the chastity of yon lady's lips?" Judith asked.

Yuri opened his mouth with a witty reply ready, but Rita's sharp glare advised him against it. "She's far better off if I don't show. I don't intend to cause trouble for her."

"I hear the Sheriff is entering the competition. Folks say he's quite a good shot." Judith was baiting him, but it wasn't going to work. His reasoning still stood. But she wasn't done. "I imagine most of the town will be there, and the castle guard as well, to see the sport. I doubt they've thought as much of protecting the royal treasury as they have about catching you. Because Robin with his skill and confidence would definitely be at the tournament to win the fair maiden's kiss and to show off, rather than be busy plotting something else."

"What sort of plan did you have in mind?" He found himself asking, interest piqued.

"They won't expect you to show without a disguise, but they will expect you. Why not switch things up a bit? Your skills are lacking and entering would be pointless, although they'd never guess it was you. But they wouldn't get much sport out of it."

"Thanks," Yuri replied dryly.

"Raven, however, is a master archer, so skilled that he could easily keep the crowd and the crown occupied."

"Judith darling, you're too good to this old man. Your sweet words have won my heart--"

"I'm not finished," she smiled and continued. "While he is busy there, distracting your enemies, there's no reason why your lithe fingers couldn't abscond with some of the royal treasury. Given enough time, perhaps enough to free a sizable number of debtors from the local jail and bring a little life back to this sad, dying town."

"Do you think that plan will really work?" Karol asked from beside Raven, gnawing on a end of bread.

"Only one way to find out." The subterfuge did sound awfully cunning. "Is this okay with you, old man?"

"'S fine with me," he grinned. "I'll win and get a kiss from that sweet lass--"

Rita had other plans. "If you like having lips on your face, you won't dare."

A small threat, but enough to put Raven in his place.

"Killjoy."

"So, Judy, how's the rest of this plan go?" Yuri asked.

"Let's see....”  
  


%MCEPASTEBIN%


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Notes: I know it's been a while since I've posted anything and I'm sorry! I've been working really hard to get things done in time for NaNoWriMo, but as the month is winding down, I should be able to get more posted.

* * *

 

He was prepared. Which was to say, he was prepared to put himself up for show for the sake of some trap the prince hoped to spring. The Lady Estellise was seated at the prince's left, her lady in waiting, Sodia, beside her, probably there for the very same thing. This wasn't the way to catch Robin Hood.

The more Flynn thought about this, the less he liked it. But he had still shown up as was his duty, clad in his uniform that had been cleaned specifically for this event, and too well portrayed his noble rank. He stood in a row with a dozen other men, old and young, dressed both brightly and plainly, who hoped to win the bag of gold and the fair lady's kiss. He knew that Robin Hood wouldn't show without a disguise and with that knowledge, he scanned the competitors, looking for the barest hint of trickery. When that search proved fruitless, he knew that he at least had one thing to fall back on. He knew that Robin Hood was bad with the bow. Unlike the prince and Alexei who would be focusing on the winners, Flynn's eyes were watching for the losers.

A horn sounded across the green tourney field and his stomach twisted in knots. There were any number of tricks that Robin Hood could utilize, if he had even bothered to show. The whole thing was a trap for him and he had to know that.

Attention gathered to the Royal Box from all corners of the field as the prince spoke.

"Archers, show us your skill!" He said simply before slumping in his high backed chair.

The spectators cheered from their stands, and with little more grandeur, the contestants notched their arrows and prepared them for flight.

Banners whipped in the breeze. Sweat stung cool on his all too warm skin, threatening to force the arrow from his grip. In a smooth motion, he drew back the bow string, listening to it sing as it stretched. He narrowed the scope of his vision to the wooden target before him, the red bulls-eye the guide for his arrow. Whose arrows would land their mark and who would Flynn turn his suspicious to?

At the call of the horn, they launched, each bow string snapping back into place with a 'twang' as the arrows flew. Points stuck fast in wood, and after the second faded, it was easy to see who would move on to the next round. Of the dozen archers aside from himself, four missed targets completely and were booed from the field. Not one of them caught his eye as suspicious or in need of further investigation. He was certain that it wasn't any of them.

The horns sounded to mark the second round and the targets taken further away. A second cry was followed by the second snap of eight bowstrings, and their ranks were further slimmed. The end of the third round left only himself and one other man standing, the targets pushed to the far edge of the field.

The last remaining competitor was a scruffy man, slouched and whistling. Simply based on the level of his skill, he was not the Robin Hood that Flynn had seen, but he had so carefully examined the others and had found no disguises among them. But this man was still suspicious, and surely Prince Cumore and Alexei, glaring at him from the royal box felt the same.

Flynn watched the man notch his arrow for the fourth round, eyes fixed on the skill with which he held the bow, drew back its string, and took aim.

"Aye, Sheriff, you haven't won just yet. Ya still hafta fire."

The man spoke with a confident smile that said he wouldn't be easily bested, but Flynn turned back to his target and readied another shot. He awaited the call of the horn to signal for him to fire. His eyes still glanced over, wandering for any hint of what might have been causing his suspicion.

And there, notched in the bow string, was the clue his eyes fixed on. Robin Hood wasn't here, but that didn't mean someone wasn't here in his stead. The black fletching of the arrow in the bow was evidence enough. But if he was here, where was Robin Hood?

 

* * *

 

Security was lax. Judith had been right. They hadn't been expecting him to avoid the contest and sneak into the castle instead.

Up over the stone battlements and into an unguarded tower, Yuri crept. This was almost as easy as walking through the front gate. The few guards that had been left were dozing at their posts or equally easy to sneak past as Yuri traversed the stone corridors, making a mental map as he went. He would have to find both the treasury and a secure exit. Thankfully, he had help waiting in the woods. Repede was waiting to warn him of the approach of people to the castle, and Karol had a bag in which they hoped to transport their spoils. It wouldn't be easy to carry enough on himself to free the large number of people currently jailed as debtors.

He ducked in and out of the shadows, peeking in doorways, wandering halls. Judith had guessed that that treasury wouldn't be too far from the prince's chambers, so he kept his eyes open for the grandest of decoration that the spoiled prince would be using, like a beacon to lead him.

The great hall was empty, without even a single guard to cover the throne the prince liked to call his own. It just sat there, high backed, dark, stained wood and cushioned with a downy seat. Its edges had been carved with the emblems of lions and stags, woven branches and leaves. It was so pristine and perfect. Reluctantly, he left it be for now.

He slipped behind the curtain that separated the great hall and the royal chambers. The silence here was different than in the rest of the castle, sharp and cold and tense, and he strained to hear even the slightest noise in the rooms before him that might betray the presence of a person. After a moment, there was nothing and he chose to stealthily creep onward.

The prince's door was marked with a crown, but the door further on was largely unadorned save for the massive black iron lock. The big, clumsy thing was no match for him though. Deftly, with the aid of his knife and a pick, the lock popped open with ease. The trove beyond that door was grander than he had even seen: chests so heavily weighed with gold that they could sink ships, more coin than he could imagine in the entirety of the realm. But he knew that this was only a small portion of the crown's wealth. It was portion enough for what Yuri needed.

Into every pocket, he stuffed gold coins, little muslin sacks of them to muffle the sound they would make as he sneaked around. He was careful not to over encumber himself. He still needed to be able to make a quick getaway if the moment called for it.

He watched and listened carefully for any sounds in the hall before he crept out of the room, one hide bag of coins in his hand in addition to the smaller ones on his person. Another trip back the way he came would take too long and put him at too big a risk, especially if he wanted to get all that he could carry, so he chose a more direct route: straight into the prince's stateroom.

The window within was still shuttered and he opened it carefully and quietly to an area along one of the outer walls, looking into the forest. Below, Repede was pacing the edge of the forest, and caught a glimpse of him immediately. As quick as he had, he dashed off, returning a moment later followed by Karol. He dropped his bag without a word and received the bags of gold that Yuri fed down with a rope. The boy tucked the bags of gold away between a pair of bushes and Yuri pulled him in up into the window and they left Repede to keep watch further.

"This is the prince's stateroom?" Karol asked, eyes scanning the stone walls decorated with crests and maps and tapestries.

"Yeah. Come on. The treasury's this way."

His eyes widened to see the splendid piles of treasure that awaited them.

"How are we going to carry it all?"

"We don't need it all. A few bags will do for now, just to get some of the villagers out of jail." He hoisted up another bag, tucking it up under his arm. "How's the Old Man doing?"

"Holding his own against the Sheriff."

"Good. Take these down. I'll head after you." He handed two bags off to Karol.

"What? Why?"

"I've got a present to leave for His Royal Highness."

"What are you going to do?"

Yuri pulled an arrow from the quiver on his back, brushing a thumb over its iron tip. He left the treasury, Karol clanging softly behind him, and headed into the grand hall. He set down the bag of gold he held and took up his bow. Leaving a message like this was foolish; Yuri knew that. Knowing that did not sate the desire to do it. He stood before the throne, arrow notched, and the head of the wooden seat in his sight. Right about where the prince's spoiled head would have been.

"Yuri, you couldn't hit anything if your life depended on it."

"I can shoot well enough to hit this."

 

* * *

 

The scruffy archer more than held his own. Flynn watched him out of the corner of his eye. He had the strength and poise of a highly skilled archer, and Flynn could tell he was holding back and drawing the tournament out. He would draw the bowstring back, but not quite complete, or he would ease it a hair. His arrows always hit the mark, but only well enough to move him onto further rounds. He was playing and keeping the attention of Alexei and Flynn on himself. There was no doubt that he was up to something. But he wasn't Robin Hood.

His skill was too good to allow him to hold back for long, though. Once he and Flynn were the only remaining competitors, there was a notable shift in his demeanor. His arrows flew further and faster, piercing the heart of the target with trained ease. Three rounds and they were still tied and the sound of a horn was all that kept him from notching another arrow.

Prince Cumore stood, looking over the proceedings with his usual visage of barely disguised disgust. The crowd hushed with a wave of his arm, and he spoke.

"I call a brief adjournment of this riveting competition so that our champion archers might catch their breath before we commence the final round."

The shaggy archer stretched and paced a bit, but Flynn didn't have that luxury. Alexei called him forward with a wave of his hand, and Flynn stepped up to the royal box bowing before the prince.

"That knave, Robin Hood, is a better archer than I had expected," Prince Cumore mused, stroking his chin.

"Your Highness, I don't--"

"Let him win this next round." His red eyes glinted greedily as he shifted his gaze. "We'll will spring the trap after he claims his prize."

"Your Highness, that man cannot be Robin Hood."

That glare sharpened on him, as did Alexei's.

"What do you mean?"

"I encountered Robin Hood not three days ago in the forest and by my evidence, there is no way a man who is as good a shot as this could have been the same who shot at me twice and missed miserably."

"You must be mistaken," Alexei said. "The man you fought in the forest must have been a decoy or a copy cat. Every eyewitness testimony speaks of his impeccable skill with the bow."

"And half of those same eye witnesses claim to have seen horns atop his head."

The prince's face flushed, bright red heat in pasty skin, and his fingers tightened on the arms of his cushioned seat.

"Watch your tongue, /Sheriff/," he hissed.

"Begging your pardon, Your Highness." Flynn averted his eyes momentarily as a humble gesture. "I had no intention of discounting your experience."

"As I thought," Cumore cleared his throat. "Now, do as we've planned."  
"Sire, I still maintain that this man is not Robin Hood."

The prince sputtered to reply, his angered tongue losing his words. Alexei stepped in for him, sharp and final.

"You have your orders. And after you have lost this final shot, you will escort Lady Estellise back to the castle." From the tone of his voice, Flynn knew it was safe to assume that Alexei would be handling the arrest of the scruffy archer himself. That came as no surprise.

Cumore dismissed him with a wave of his hand, and Flynn returned to the worn down grass of his firing spot to prepare for the final round.

His opponent was standing, leaning on the edge of his bow, eyes closed. Was he sleeping at a time like this? Did he have no idea of the plot in motion against him, even though there was no doubt in Flynn's mind that he was not the vigilante Robin Hood? That didn't mean he was innocent, and Flynn had an awful lot of questions for him. While waiting for the horn to signal the final round, he dared to ask.

"I don't believe I heard your name, sir."

The archer stirred slightly, opening one eye and humming. "Wuz at?"

"Your name, sir?"

"Raven." His lips stretched into a contented smile. "It's been an honor having you as my opponent, Sheriff."

"Likewise, Raven. I must say, your skill is admirable. And your arrows."

"Thankee. I hate to brag, pride being a sin and all, but I think I could give Ol' Robin Hood a run for his money where the bow's concerned."

The shrill shriek of the horn pulled them both to attention, but Flynn muttered below its sound.

"That wouldn't be hard considering what a poor archer he is."

He wasn't positive, but he felt that icy gaze fix on him, regarding him cautiously, but Raven was turned to his target once more when Flynn notched his final arrow.

They both waited, tense and trained on their targets. It pained him to purposefully miss the bulls-eye with as hard as his father had trained him at this, but it was his duty, and he could not fail. Even if Alexei and the prince were mistaken, Flynn had to follow his orders. At the very least, he was certain that this man had something to do with Robin hood, so they weren't capturing an innocent man. Maybe with this, they would see and finally hear him out.

With the signal, his body moved of its own accord, loosing an arrow from the arc of his bow. His arrow, and Raven's, flew in twain, finding purchase in the wooden target's face. The victor was clear. Dutifully, Flynn's arrow found home, not in the red of the bulls-eye, but half a hand higher off target.

A cheer rose up from the stands of spectators, honoring the magnificence of Raven's perfect shot. Alexei stood to make the announcement.

"Our winner is Raven from Devonshire!"

Another cheer rose, and Flynn waited in his spot, head hung as his opponent strutted up to the royal box. He bowed, and received on his forehead, a kiss from Lady Estellise. The trap was not sprung yet and Flynn wondered why. Wasn't the most opportune moment while his guard was down? He could not stay to watch.

With her duty performed, Lady Estellise and Sodia met him at the rear stairs of the box, and with the crowd still celebrating, he led them away. Across the tourney field, they entered through the main gate of the castle.

"What a magnificent contest," she smiled. “It's such a pity about your final shot, though."

"It's all right," he replied."He was a much better archer than I. I was fortunate to make it as far as i did."

"Next time, I'm certain you'll win." Her ever cheerful demeanor rubbed off on him a bit. At least if Alexei's plan went well, they would have one of Robin Hood's accomplices in custody.

"Thank you, Lady Estellise."

They entered the main corridor and they paused where the hall split into the different wings of the castle.

"Shall I escort you to your chambers?"

"That won't be necessary. Thank you." The ladies pulled back from him and swept away down the hall.

As soon as they were out of sight, he slumped against the corridor wall, letting it hold all of his weight for the moment. His head was suddenly pounding, one sharp crack after another threatening to split this skull like a squash. but that noise wasn't only in his head. the sharp ache betrayed a different sort of splitting sound, pointed metal against wood.

Every hair on his body prickled and he had his sword in hand before he knew it. He crept toward the great hall, where he could still hear the noises echoing from. Where the guards were and why they weren't investigating this, Flynn didn't know, but he would find out for himself.

He stopped in the stone archway, frozen in disbelief.

There, before the throne, was a tall, hooded figure, clad in dark greens and black and a boy, similarly dressed beside him, holding two bags. In one hand, the figure held a simple, wooden long bow, and in the other an arrow. He did not notch the arrow, but with the firmness of his grip, he drove its point into the back of the throne, burying it in the wood.

"I thought you said you wouldn't miss," the boy said cheekily.

"Shut up," the dark figure replied, taking a step back to look at his handiwork.

"You!" The word escaped Flynn's lips as soon as it entered his head.

 

* * *

 

Yuri spun sharply, hand on his sword, and ready for a fight, but the Sheriff was nearly on him, dashing across the stone floor of the great hall. He stood, sword in hand, ready to attack, but still. Yuri danced back a few steps, pushing with him an equally surprised Karol.

"Surrender!" the Sheriff shouted.

"Nice to see you, too." Yuri tilted his head slightly. He put just enough space between them to draw his own blade, but not quickly enough to stop the Sheriff's sword from catching on the front of his leather jerkin and tearing through it. Their blades clashed as he parried the next strike, but gave further ground as he tried not to stumble over the edge of the raised platform the throne sat on. Thankfully, Karol had wasted no time scrambling out of the window and was away into the forest.

Flynn drove him closer and closer to escape through the window of the adjoining stateroom with each swing, so caught up in the moment that he didn't even realize when Yuri took hold of the rope dangling beyond the open shutters and leapt out. He barreled into the window ledge, as surprised as he was infuriated.

"Surrender at once!" He shouted again, followed with a bellow for the guards.

Their clatter to attention wasn't the only noise though. Yuri landed in soft grass as the archers on the battlements readied their bows to fire on him, but the further noise didn't escape them either, and one by one, they paused, confused, and their eyes wandered to the green stretch of the tourney field. The dust cloud that blew in from beneath the feet of more than a dozen guards was headed by Raven, scrabbling as fast as he could into the relative safety of the forest. Just behind him, Repede was kicking up dust and tripping guards, but sprinted to the lead. He would know the best path back to the safety, and was clever enough to keep from being tracked.

Yuri took that briefest distraction to make himself scarce, although the gold that filled his pockets made that slightly more difficult than it should have been. Thankfully, Karol had managed to retrieve their stash from the bushes and had long since gotten away.

Arrows flew through the brush and canopy behind him, sniping by and catching in tree trunks and chunks of dirt. Footsteps and hoof beats thundered just beyond his vision, pounding in his ears like his heartbeat as he ran.

He wasn't sure how far he had run, or for how long, when the sounds behind him became only his memory and a distant echo. He was still far from the hideout, but he didn't want to head back yet. Climbing up into a tree, he put a little more distance between himself and the castle before he paused to catch his breath. It wheezed and rattled in his throat and burned his lungs as he scanned to get his bearings. Other than the ache of his muscles, he seemed no worse for wear in spite of the shower of arrows and ferocity of the Sheriff's blade. As long as the others were indeed safe, the mission had been a success. Mostly.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Author's notes: Seriously, this was one of my favorite chapters to write. Tales of Vesperia is the property of Namco Bandai.

* * *

 

Robin Hood was more clever than Flynn had anticipated. He had obviously planned for such a trap as what Alexei had set, and from the scattering of dropped gold in the throne room, had helped himself to the royal treasury, all while keeping Flynn, Alexei, and most of the castle guards busy with a skilled decoy. If Flynn hadn't been so frustrated with the whole situation, he might have been impressed. Instead, Alexei was going to attempt to place the blame for this debacle on Flynn, and Cumore wasn't likely to stop him. At least he could leave the castle under the pretense of following the intruder before the brunt of that misdirected rage was rained down on him.

He turned away from the window that the hooded figure and his child accomplice had escaped from, sheathing his sword as he spun. For now, he would need the castle secured, and a search of the forest started. He moved to the throne, reaching for the arrow embedded in the back, when something else caught his eye.

Flynn's foot had only barely nudged the book on the floor, and he stooped to pick it up. Turning it over in his hand, he found the back cover cut through, the last few pages sliced in half. It was fairly weighty for being only as big as his hand, its leaves stuffed with bits of scrap paper, but where had it come from? The scratch on the back gave him the best clue. His sword had managed to cut through the front of Robin Hood's jerkin. Had this thing perhaps saved him from grievous injury, and been dropped in the confusion?

The pages inside were mostly blank, if not covered in illegible scribble. He wasn't sure what he intended to find in those pages as he strode to the stables to get his horse, but he continued to search. A bit of old greenery near the middle stopped him, and for a long moment, he could do nothing more than stare at its twisted and dried shape settled between the pages.

He couldn't believe it. He didn't  _want_ to believe it. It was conceivable that the dried clover ring meant absolutely nothing. Every child knew how to make them, so this one shouldn't have filled him with the dread that it did. He couldn't just swallow it down and ignore it. He had to know for certain and he couldn't rest until he did, no matter how he feared the answer.

With hurried steps, he mounted his horse, leaving only the briefest word of his pursuit with the guards, and rode full force from the castle. He did not follow whatever tracks might have been left behind. If he fears were true, they would be useless. If his fears were true, he knew exactly where to find Robin Hood. He took an old hunting trail, long disused by the overgrowth of trees and underbrush, but Flynn had never forgotten it. It had been years since he strode the path, but the crunch of leaves and twigs beneath his horse's feet hadn't changed as the trail wound between tall trees and under bushes. He knew this all, no matter how many years had passed since he had run it as a child, careless and free. He would never forget it. Even the density of the heart of the forest could not disguise the path from his memories, and as soon as the little, wood, treetop shack came into view, he knew that he had been right. He knew it and he hated it.

The little encampment was void of further life, but bigger than he remembered. A series of structures were built into the trees with rope and slat board walkways connecting them, and a large fire pit, embers cold, on the ground below them. There was not a single sound save that of the trees themselves as he found an old rope ladder, its slats repaired many times by hands both skilled and not so. The slats still held his weight as he climbed, even if they groaned and creaked where they had not in years before.

The oldest of the little hovels was his goal and he slid in through the entrance, curtained against the cold and the wind. He was sure it would be just as he remembered but for the cloth tacked over the windows and junk piled up around the bed and shelf that were new. Scrolls, knives, trinkets, half finished arrows made by an amateur fletcher. The littlest hints of  _him_ were here. The smells of soap and carved wood and leather, of sweat unchanged by the span of years, save for the tinge of the forest's sharpness. He still didn't want to believe it, even as his hands fumbled through the book once more, and its unmistakable truth nestled in the leaves.

"I didn't think I'd find you here." That voice was unmistakable, but not as sharp as the surprise of it would have led him to believe.

Flynn turned briskly, and the hooded silhouette in the door frame regarded him cautiously.

"You should get going before I change my mind." One of the figure's hands patted the hilt of the sword at his side absently.

"Who are you?" Flynn asked, but he knew the answer.

"Are you deaf?"

"Yuri...."

Flynn took a step forward and the figure froze and didn't pull back when he stood directly in front of it. He dared to lift his hands, to take in their grasp the woolen edges of the hood. The light tug backward was nothing to deter him. His skin went clammy and his blood ran chilled and he hesitated no longer.

Storm grey eyes and a tumbling mass of black hair greeted him, an ivory face whose expression was caught somewhere between surprise and resignation. He couldn't keep his eyes off the features that hadn't changed much in the years, just older, elongated gently by time and growth. But the look in those eyes hadn't aged a day.

The man stiffened as Flynn wrapped his arms around him, so full of other thoughts and feelings that he barely noticed. He forced back the stinging flood in his eyes and fought not to let the choked breath in his throat come out of his mouth.

"I missed you so much," was all he could bear to say, a faint muttering into Yuri's dark hair. Hastily, his hands cupped Yuri's warm, pale cheeks. Their noses touched, breath mingled, and the press of their lips was soft and brief, even though Flynn wanted it to be so much more.

"What are you doing here?" Yuri's own voice was soft, but ignited a spark in him.

"What am  _I_ doing here?" He pulled back, shaking off the tears. "What are  _you_ doing here?! Why are you doing these things? Why are you--"

"Robin Hood?" Yuri smirked back, relaxing. "I'm just doing what I need to do."

"What you are doing is against the law!"

He didn't budge and he offered no explanation. Flynn felt that spark of rage fizzle out. He couldn't let himself destroy the happiest moment that he had known in a long while. He had every right to be angry, to question, but there was plenty of time for that later. Right now, Yuri was here, even if it confirmed that all his dread was not imagined. He wanted so badly to just be happy for now.

"When I came back and you were nowhere to be found, I feared the worst...."

Yuri retreated a step further, leaving Flynn's hands empty and cold. He paced the edge of the room, pausing at the open window. His silence was almost heavier than words would have been, but those words eventually came, cold and barbed. "A lot happened."

If Yuri thought that was explanation enough to satisfy him, he was wrong. "Like what?"

"It doesn't matter now."

It was a story that he had heard in brief from several servants before. Once his father had died, the manor hand fallen into the hands of the crown as Flynn had been away. His remaining family had been scattered, and Yuri, too.

"Do you... live here?" The old tree fort was cluttered enough to be officially occupied.

"And what's wrong with that? For being a place we built as kids, it's pretty comfortable here."

"Come home. With me." Those words burned his mouth, anxious and needy. "You don't need to do this."

"I can't." The denial came so quickly that it stunned him.

"You'll be safe and cared for and--"

"This is something that I need to do." Yuri's eyes shifted to meet his and the argument dropped there. Flynn wanted to plead his case further, but he knew that it was useless. Yuri was too stubborn to listen to reason.

"So, what brings the Sheriff of Nottingham all the way to my humble home?"

Numbly, his hands presented the book that had led him there, and as Yuri took it, they dropped limp at his sides. Yuri tucked it back into his jerkin, but said nothing. Flynn broke the heavy silence.

"You kept it...."

"Of course I did." His words were just as weighty. "That was the happiest time in my life."

"We could go back--" He took a hold of Yuri's wrist, feeling the muscles flex beneath his fingers.

"Are you going to arrest me?"

"What?"  
"If not, then you should go. Before the others get back."

"Yuri, why are you doing this?"

"I think we both already know that answer to that."

Flynn wanted to hear him say it, to hear that voice explain his reasons. He waited in silence for it, and this time, it was Yuri who couldn't resist the heaviness between them.

"I won't deny that it's against the law. But there are people suffering because of those laws and I won't stand idly by while it happens."

"If the law is the problem, then you have to work to change that law."

A small, sad smile seemed to tug at those pale lips. "That sounds nice, but what good does that do anyone right now? The prince is the problem and we both know it."

"And what will you do about it?" Heat rose in his neck and his voice, but still he did not let go of Yuri's wrist, the only concrete bond between them at this moment.

Yuri's eyes darkened. "Anything I have to."

"Don't do this."

"Are you going to stop me?"

Flynn had held it in so long that it just came bursting out, white hot like fire, molten words and feelings that were tearing him apart. "I don't want to lose you again!"

The room cooled and creaked in the twilight around them, well before Yuri spoke again.

"If you're not going to arrest me, you should go."

He pulled out of Flynn's grasp easily and gave him a confident smirk that made him want so much to believe everything was okay. Maybe he could let the frustration rest for just a little while. Dread and delight alternating made his head light. He had plenty of time to be angry, but so little time to enjoy this reunion.

"I'd like to stay a little longer."

"Suit yourself." Yuri ducked out of the window and was halfway to the ground before Flynn made it to the rope ladder. He followed with a soft sigh and joined Yuri on the forest floor, where he waited on a log near the empty fire pit.

"So how long did you know it was me?" Yuri asked.

"I suspected for a while, since the ambush when you fired two arrows and missed marks both tries."

"Blasted tricky bows." He smiled crookedly. "But look at you. Sheriff. What brought that about?"

"I needed the money to reclaim the manor and to bring everyone back together."

"Ah."

His eyes found at his feet a patch of clover, and with a snap, he plucked up a flower with a long stem. Absently, he twisted at it, letting it take on a familiar shape between his fingers. He held it out. "It never felt complete without you there."

Yuri looked at the ring between Flynn's fingers, eyes hesitant, but made no motion to accept it.

"Is there another?" Flynn hated the sound of that in his mouth.

Yuri laughed. "No. Nothing like that. What about you? Any pretty young lady managed to slip a ring on your finger?"

"There was never anyone else for me."

Silence, thick and awkward.

"Please reconsider coming back home."

"I can't. You and I both know that."

"When you say it like that, it's as if it's set in stone."

"It is. I cannot come back." He was set and there was nothing Flynn could do to change his mind.

"What have you been up to these years, aside from putting a bounty on your head?" Maybe not the best subject to take his mind off the sting in his chest, but the idea of catching up even in the smallest of ways was comfort enough for now.

"I worked for a couple of other lords since your father passed. None of them seemed too keen on my attitude." He leaned back, hands planted on his log perch. "Nothing much ever came of it. Eventually, I made it back to Nottingham and found the mess this town was in. I couldn't just stand by and watch these people suffer."

Yuri's heart was in the right place. It always had been. That didn't dismiss the lawlessness of his actions, but it made the truth a little more bearable for Flynn.

"I'm glad to see you came back in one piece," Yuri said softly.

"The idea of coming home was all that saved me."

"What a disappointing homecoming you must have had."

"It's getting better."

"What are you going to do?"

Flynn didn't have to ask what he meant, but he still didn't have a clear answer. He still needed time to process everything that had happened. "I don't know."

"I won't stop."

"I know," he sounded more resigned than he should have. "You know I can't either."

"You do things your way. I'll do them mine."

He knew he couldn't dissuade Yuri from this path. It was pointless to try and he let the discussion between them rest. Yuri wasn't going to give up easily, he never had, and Flynn didn't want to spend the first time he had seen his friend in years mad at him, even about perfectly logical things.

"Please be careful." He scooped up another clover and twisted it as absently as the first.

"Worry about yourself," Yuri smiled. "You're the one who has to face that tyrant nearly every day."

"Although, I have heard that you did get to face him."

"I pulled the curtain of his litter open and he squealed like a pig in fear." He was laughing, a sound Flynn had long missed, and a sight as well. Yuri's face lit up when he smiled in earnest. Even as children, it had been all too rare a sight.

"The sighting did wonders for your wanted poster. Horns and all."

Their laughter was cut short, Flynn on his feet at the snap of a twig behind them. Yuri seemed largely unconcerned, even as the huge dog that caused the sound approached. He was no doubt a descendant of the wolves that had once flourished in this forest, and might have still in its furthest and darkest regions. His tall ears were pointed up and his single, green eye fixed on Flynn.

"Don't worry, Repede. He's a friend."

At Yuri's word, the dog, Repede, stepped forward and then circled Flynn, getting in a good, long sniff. In the end, he must have found Flynn nonthreatening, and simply trotted off to sit by Yuri to get scratched behind the ears.

"Flynn, this is Repede. We've been through a lot together."

The dog wuffed in addition.

"I guess that means the others are on the way back." Yuri stood, and Repede with him. "You need to go."

He hated the way Yuri said that, so easily like it was nothing at all, like the reunion meant nothing to him. But Flynn still stood, dropping his bit of twisted clover on the log. Maybe Yuri would find the interwoven rings later and change his mind. Maybe he would never find them and Flynn's feelings would be dismissed just like that. He still hoped. He still hoped that Yuri could just give up this foolish quest and come home. He hoped in vain.

They walked together in silence to Flynn's horse, still tethered to the low branch of their childhood tree fort. He wasn't ready to say goodbye, but he mounted his steed and remained there a moment while Yuri looked up at him. He had so much to say, so much to share and none of it could be strung together into intelligible words. His tongue swollen and mute, he rode off without another word, eyes stinging, chest aching, and so much still unsaid.

* * *

 

Yuri hadn't found the strength to voice his words, beyond simple and steadfast responses to Flynn's honest and painful questions. The real words he wanted had all been lost when those hands had found his cheeks and the sudden flow of blood stung at his skin. Nothing had happened like he had expected or hoped. He was still free and they were still separate. He supposed it could have been worse.

He watched Flynn ride away for only a moment before returning to the cold fire pit. He couldn't bear to see that sight a second time, not when he had waited so long for this moment.

Repede trotted along beside him to the log where Flynn had sat, and the bit of greenery still left in the now empty pool of his warmth. Not one clover ring, but two, intertwined and inseparable, twins of the one Flynn had given him all those years ago. It was just as hard to accept them now, although the mess between them was far more complicated that it had been before. A noble boy who fancied his valet was a far cry from the Sheriff still carrying the same torch for an infamous outlaw. Many years and many miles removed, the feeling stung at him just as much, perhaps even more violently, than they had years before, before Yuri had become this and Flynn that, before the complications of life had set in, before Flynn had left.

Yuri couldn't hold it against him. Everyone believed that the Crusades were God's work, and it was an honor to go. That didn't mean that part of Yuri hadn't died the day Flynn had ridden off to a distant land with the heavy possibility of never coming home. But he had, and everything was worse than he could have imagined.

He didn't have time to worry about old bonds and new links forged in them. Flynn hadn't arrested him for whatever stupid, sentimental reason, and Yuri tried to dismiss the desperately clinging, cold fear that the betrayal was inevitable. He wanted to trust Flynn. He had once before, and he would try again. After all, no one knew him as well as Flynn did.

As he looked down at the paired rings in his hands, feeling the weight of the book that bore the other settled against his torso, he was left to wonder what he was going to do for now. And then, creeping cold as winter's first frost, it occurred to him. Things would have been far less complicated, far less painful, if they had never met again.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

Within days of the failed trap, Flynn could see Yuri's hard work pay off. This morning alone, he had released from jail nine villagers whose families were suddenly and miraculously able to pay the back taxes owed to the crown. Overall, thirty-three people had been released and dozens of others able to make payments for the month to keep themselves from ending up in jail.

Flynn couldn't say that he wasn't glad to see that something was helping the village. At least for now, people were not struggling quite as they had before. It was hard to ignore the whispers of Yuri's notorious pseudonym about town, mumbled praises and thanks. But this wasn't going to fix the underlying problem. The taxes were too high to maintain at this rate. With a few weeks' time, there would be more arrests for taxes unpaid and the people would suffer once more. Yuri's solution wasn't a long term one. It attacked the symptoms, but not the disease itself. In fact, Flynn feared that Yuri's 'rob from the rich to feed the poor' medicine was only making the underlying problem worse. Every raid brought a new tax hike as the prince tried to regain what had been lost. Half of the nobles of the court hadn't escaped the banditry either, pockets picked clean. Yuri had to see that this wasn't the only way.

One option, ever present, but very deadly, was the regicidal sort, which Flynn could never bring himself to seriously consider. For now, they would have to wait. With luck, the King was on his way back from the Crusades, and with his return would come order and peace and prosperity. The question now was: could they afford to wait?

It was still disheartening. Yuri's method of helping was at least temporarily effective, but Flynn's was less so. He still hadn't found the time or the courage to discuss the ever increasing taxes with the prince. He was certain that the suggestion would not be well received. Still, he was duty bound, not only to the crown, but to its people, to do all in his power to help. That made the idea of facing the prince on the the matter a little easier.

Cumore denied him an audience for several days, not personally, but through Alexei. Neither had been particularly pleased that Robin Hood had not only eluded their trap and raided the royal treasury, but that he and his cohort had escaped. The blame hadn't fallen directly on him, but it was implied so heavily in the whispers of the court and the guards that it was as if the weight of that burden had truly been Flynn's to bear.

He waited for a few days until the prince's ire had cooled a little before requesting another audience. The affirmation seemed to come reluctantly.

"A message from His Royal Highness, Sheriff." This time it was a lieutenant of the castle guard who brought the correspondence rather than Alexei. He was more grateful for that than he should have been.

He thanked the lieutenant and sent him away before taking a seat at his desk. He opened the sealed letter, carefully examining the stiffly written contents. All the formal writing in the world couldn't disguise the prince's disgust with the idea of actually granting an audience, even thought Flynn was a fellow noble, if of a far lower rank. What caused him to finally agree was unknown, but the rest of his message was quite clear.

_Your audience with His Royal Highness, Prince Alexander Cumore, will be promptly at dusk before the great hall. Be prompt._

At least a chance to reason with the prince was something, and Flynn had every intention of arriving with plenty of time.

He stood, pacing for a moment as he gathered his thoughts and then took leave of his office to the adjoining jail, where Adeccor and Boccos stood guard.

"Good day, Sheriff," they said as they saluted, a touch too merrily.

"Good day," he replied.

"What can we do for you?" Adeccor asked.

"How many of the people of Nottingham are currently incarcerated within our jail as debtors." He knew the number himself. It was much higher than he was comfortable with.

"Why, no less than fifty, sir."

"I say, sixty at least."

"Ninety-three," he corrected. "Ninety-three people. And do you know why they are here?"

"The inability to pay their taxes of course." Their eyes drifted from one another and back to him, questioning. Obviously, Flynn's line of interrogation was pointless to them. They didn't see the underlying problem at all in this situation.

"Pardon, Sheriff," LeBlanc's voice echoed behind him from the window of Flynn's office. "But there's a woman here to see you."

Flynn excused himself and returned to the guard station where a somewhat familiar face greeted him. The buxom minstrel from the abbey smiled and gave a deep bow at his entrance. He bowed as well.

"What can I do for you today, milady?" he asked, taking a seat at his desk once more.

"I have come to pay the back taxes against my mother and father." Cheerily, she set a coin purse on the top of his desk. The sound of the coin within told him that it was no small sum within. "I hope it is enough."

Something about her demeanor was off putting. She didn't seem at all like someone coming to free loved ones. Rather, she wore the same thin smile as the last time he had spoken with her. The topic had been Robin Hood and that time, and she seemed all too fond of spreading what he now knew as false rumors. Yuri had mentioned in brief that there were others who were part of his cause. Could she be among them?

"I'm sure it is." Flynn turned to LeBlanc. "Please take her to retrieve her parents."

He watched them leave, and through the window and enter the jail. A few moments passed before they returned, the minstrel walking arm in arm with an elderly couple. They made it all the way down the gravel path to the gate before she turned back and her smile turned into a smirk as she locked eyes with him. She knew she was a suspect, and that Flynn likely had no evidence against her. With that knowledge surely secure in her mind, she led the pair off down the road into town.

Flynn felt it safe to assume that the woman was an agent of Yuri's work, using the gold that he had stolen from the treasury days before to release those who had no family to do it for them. He also knew that there was a child, a dog, and the scruffy old archer named Raven in his employ. It was unlikely that their numbers were greater than that. If he knew Yuri as well as he thought he did, he would keep the ranks small, a few people he trusted closely and no one else. It was conceivable that the minstrel would fill out his ranks as well, being the eyes and ears in the village and getting information where Yuri himself could not. In fact, it was unlikely that Yuri left the forest. Flynn watched the streets of the village closely and saw not the faintest sign of him. It was certainly safer, but Yuri was likely unsatisfied with that. He had always liked to be in the thick of the action.

For now, he couldn't worry about Yuri, not with sunset fast approaching. He left thorough instructions with the evening watch guards and headed off to the castle.

The ride was brief, his horse taking the distance with an easy speed in its stride. The steady pace, the wind in his face, cleared his head. He could do this. He had to do this. If he worked hard, it would lighten the weight of Yuri's burden, even if just a little bit. He couldn't be held back by fear and doubt. People were counting on him. He couldn't let the people of Nottingham continue to suffer like this. And if he could do this, maybe then... maybe Yuri would come home.

At the gate, a guard took his horse, although he didn't intend to stay long. Just long enough to have his point heard. The sun had almost set when he strode into the great hall, choked with diners and servants preparing for the evening meal. Beside the prince in his throne, there was Alexei, and Lady Estellise's seat was oddly vacant. He only let the barest thought worry for what might have kept her from her supper, but he had bigger worries right now. He knelt before the prince, who still seemed none too pleased with his presence. Alexei only slightly less so.

"Ah, the Sheriff of Nottingham," he sneered. "What brings you before the crown?"

"Your Highness, I have requested this audience to speak with you of the growing problems within the town." He remained on one knee, head humbly held low.

"So you have word on the hunt for Robin Hood."

"Actually, Your Highness, it is regarding the taxes."

A hush fell over the assembled court, all eyes fixed somewhere between himself and the prince.

"Do go on." Even without looking, he could hear the anger rising in the prince's voice, the scrape of his teeth grinding together, the heavy hand behind his barbed words.

"I think, perhaps, the taxes are the roots of the problem," he drew in a sharp breath and continued, words flowing honestly, but delicately from him. "You see, when the people are unable to pay the taxes, they suffer, and then Robin Hood plunders as if to give them some reprieve. In addition, if the taxes are higher than the people can pay, they end up in jail until they can. But the problem with throwing them into the jail for such an offense is that they can't earn the money to pay what they owe while in shackles, and only end up deeper in debt. It is a vicious cycle and I believe if you return the tax rate to what it was before His Majesty--"

"Silence!" Prince Cumore shouted, anger spilling from him. His next words were icy cold in comparison. "In case you have forgotten, /Sheriff/, Robin Hood is the root of the problem. He is the reason that taxes continue to rise as we struggle to maintain the kingdom off of what he has not yet stolen. On top of that, every shilling we can possibly spare is being send to aid our knights and His Majesty, who are still fighting in the Holy Land. They need the support of our people in order to survive, and our people should gladly put forth all they can to help in the absence of His Majesty."

The crowd assembled clapped and cheered for the prince's words, but they were vitriol in Flynn's ears. These people didn't know anything. But the injuries to Flynn's purpose and pride continued.

"And /Sheriff/, you should remember your place." He looked upon Flynn as no better than a worm, acid dripping from his every syllable. "Yours is not as the maker of the law, but as the /keeper/ and your duty is two fold: to catch Robin Hood and to punish those who refuse to pay their taxes."

Flynn did not budge and did not speak, a clenched jaw all that kept his tongue in his mouth and his head on his shoulders.

"Is that understood, Sheriff?"

"Yes," he replied through gritted teeth. "Your Highness."

"Good. You are dismissed." A wave of the prince's pale hand added to the flippant effect.

Whispers, barely disguised, followed him out of the great hall, and as soon as he was clear of the door, and roar of laughter rose.

* * *

 

Security had heightened since his last visit to the castle, but slipping over the wall and onto Estelle's balcony had still been easy. He waited in the shadows, ducked down beside the parapet's ledge until he heard the telltale sound of Estelle wishing her lady-in-waiting goodnight. The door shut and he could hear Estelle's humming as she paced the room with soft steps.

Yuri slipped through the curtains, standing only once he was safely within the room. she caught sight of him instantly and greeted him with a hug.

"I'm so glad to see you." She squeezed him tight.

"Did I worry you?"

"Always. Oh, but I have so much to tell you."

She was much more chipper than he could manage for long, but he humored her as best he could as she tugged him into a chair by the fireplace.

"Firstly," he started, "How have you been?"

"Everything had been fine, no matter how mad the Prince gets. But that's what I need to tell you about."

"The Prince?"

"Yes. He's sending a carriage with a portion of the treasury to the capital. I think its a trap, though, as he means to send it through the forest."

"Who else knows of this?" She was his only source of information from within the castle, but there were far more important reasons he couldn't let suspicion fall on her.

"Half the guard, Alexei, myself, Sodia, a dozen or so other nobles." So it was not a well kept secret. "I'm not sure if Sheriff Flynn knows or not."

Yuri felt himself droop, his shoulders heavy with an invisible weight that that name burdened him with. "Oh, he knows."

"Yuri?" Her hand pressed against his arm, pulling him back to the coldness of reality. "What's the matter?”

He wanted to hold it in, hold it back. If he didn't admit it, he could still pretend that it wasn't true. But the truth was heavy and painful and inescapable. It burdened his every action, the simplest movement, in the easiest thought. The truth was something he could not live with, but could not deny. He would be a fool to forget the moment they had shared in their childhood tree fort, where Flynn found his secret out and begged him to come home. If it wasn't true, he could go on acting like Flynn the Sheriff was nothing but a nuisance, hunting him, who did not know him from any other outlaw. But Flynn knew him all too well.

He swallowed the hard lump in his throat, spine bent as he stared into the fire. "He knows. Who I am."

Her gaze fell on him; he could feel it. He did not rise to meet it, but he could imagine that it was piteous. She let the silence last a long moment before speaking, as if she was weighting her question against his feelings.

"Are you all right?" It wasn't the one he expected.

"Oh, just fine." Sarcasm barely contained, but he tried a second time. "It's fine. I should have known that this would happen. As you see, I'm still a free man. It's really not important."

"We both know that's not true."

Of course it wasn't, but denying it was the only way of keeping the wash of hollowness from consuming his inside completely.

"What did he say?"

"A lot of preachy nonsense." A pointless plea. The look in those eyes still stung him.

"And?"

"He's going to do things his way, and I'll do them my way."

"I know he's trying, Yuri," she said softly, sending the gentle caress of her hand over his shoulders. "He only wants what is best for the people of Nottingham."

"Maybe, but at what cost?" All the while, Flynn was playing the dutiful Sheriff: arresting innocent people who were fighting to keep their families fed, obeying the orders of the tyrant who wore a false crown, perhaps following the letter of the law, but certainly not the spirit. And Yuri couldn't change the way he was doing this. He had no pull, no power. He could only do what he had been doing up to this point: vigilante tactics to keep the suffering of the people to a minimum. And each day, it was a bigger challenge.

"Please, believe in him. I know that you still want to, and I know that if he didn't arrest you, he must believe in you, too."

He nodded solemnly and stood. "I should be going. We have a lot of planning to do."

She walked him to the balcony, parting the curtains for him, and followed him to the wall where his rope dangled. With a soft puff of breath, she extinguished the lantern left for him and embraced him tightly once more.

"Please be safe."

"I'll do my best."

A quick kiss on the crown of her head, and he scrambled up the wall. He had a lot to think about on his way back to camp and he wanted none of it.

 

* * *

 

Two shadows met on the balcony in a tender embrace. Flynn had only caught the scene when he noticed the flame of the lantern die. Warmth flushed his skin, heat tingling as it gathered in his extremities. He wished he could have mistaken what he saw but now that he knew the form of that silhouette, it was impossible for him not to recognize even the slightest movement of that shadow as Yuri's. It was all too obvious in the way he walked, in the way he stood, in the very presence of his being. Flynn knew it too well, and Flynn knew the motion that passed between Yuri's shadow and Estellise's. But he could not mistake a kiss for anything else no matter how hard he tried, and hoped. The dark of the night could not disguise that which threatened to shatter his being. As plain as day, as bright as sunlight, and burning his insides like fire.

Flynn had thought he had known Yuri, that he had known him better than anyone. Perhaps he didn't know anything.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

He regretted not being able to venture into town himself to see the state of things, but it was impossible. He had to rely on word from the others and occasional visits to the abbey. With the increase of guards around the town, his outings were less and less frequent. The risk of getting caught was too high.

Every shilling of the money earned from the treasury had gone right back to the people. With it, they had been able to free some of the debtors from the jail, but not enough. Other families had been able to pay before they were imprisoned. It was a temporary solution at best, though. Taxes would come due again. Yuri was fighting a losing battle in this way, but for now, it was all that he could do.

The tree fort he lived in had become suffocating, every notch and knot reminding him of a happier time and an unhappy truth, of Flynn, and all that he stood for. He escaped these memories by tending the fire pit, even when the embers were dead.

Early evening brought with it a depth of darkness to the forest and he still had a meal to prepare before the others came back. During the day, they were his eyes and ears within the town, although Raven had to don a disguise now, lest he be recognized as the archer from the tournament. The least he could do to thank them for their hard work was see that they were fed to the best of his ability. Once the fire was hot enough, the venison stew he prepared bubbled softly and he stirred it absently.

Repede was always the first to come back, and shortly thereafter, Judith, and finally Raven and Karol. All safe, all sound, they gathered about the fire to trade their daily reports.

"The cobbler and his wife were released this afternoon," Judith said. "I do hate to say it, but I think the Sheriff might be on to us."

Yuri hadn't told them yet. He wasn't sure he wanted to. He wasn't sure /how/ to.

"The baker, the blacksmith, and the chandler were also able to pay what they owed to keep out of trouble," Karol added.

"There's still a fair chunk of people behind bars, and even more coming due," Raven said, helping himself to a taste from the bubbling pot. "What are we gonna do, lad?”

He settled against the log, eyes on the fire beneath the cast iron pot. "Estelle said that there will be a carriage heading through here in a few days to transport some of the treasury to the safety of the capital. She's pretty sure it's a trap and so am I."

"Do you think it'll be worth the risk?" Judith asked.

"If it is actually carrying gold. If it's not a trap, or if it's a poorly planned one, we should be able to easily outmaneuver them." He passed a hand through the ends of his hair. It being a trap was far from his biggest worry. "Estelle is going to keep gathering information about it. We need any possible information about this."

"Now that you mention it, I did overhear somethin' pretty interestin' from the city guards this morn," Raven mused.

"Like what?" Karol asked.

"That knight, Alexei, seemed to be pulling quite a lot of strings lately. He plotted the route _through_ the forest for some reason that the guards didn't much understand. I've gotta admit, that makes the whole thing sound just a touch fishy."

"He's got to know that he'll be a target that like," Judith replied. "It's definitely a trap."

"But how good of one?" Yuri asked, barely a mutter.

"Likely not without its flaws. If we knew how well guarded it will be, we could easily plan accordingly. Simple things, and Alexei's daring, could make this easily work in our favor, but we'll need more information so we can plan. There's no reason his trap has to spring in his favor," Judith explained, a wicked smirk tugging at her lips.

Further discussion was halted by Yuri's pouring out four wooden bowls of stew, one for each of his teammates. But hunger hadn't settled in through the restlessness of his own shaking insides. Food was not what he wanted, but Yuri wasn't sure what it was that he did want. He passed the bowls around and fitted the heavy lid back on the blackened pot.

"Aren't you gonna eat?" Karol asked between mouthfuls.

"I'm not all that hungry."

The others exchanged glances and all shrugged. Raven added seconds to his bowl, and another scoop to Karol's.

"You're awfully pensive," Judith said, soft enough that the others didn't hear. Her face even portrayed the slightest hint of concern.

"It's nothing." He wasn't getting anything done this way. He couldn't even think. "I'm going to take a walk. Don't wait up for me."

None of them followed or questioned him as he strode away from camp. The heat of the fire was smothering, drawing the breath from his lungs and filling them with flames. He had been doing far too much thinking lately and he just wanted to stop.

* * *

 

Summer heat lingered in the highest rooms of the manor. Even the open windows provided no relief of a passing breeze.

The sweltering heat wasn't the only thing on Flynn's mind. Yuri was ever present, as much as he hated to admit it. What had provided him such a fleeting moment of happiness was now a burden, a cold stone. He still wanted to be glad for it, but there was little to be glad for, given the revelations following their reunion. Perhaps the most painful of all was that, while they had reunited, they were not together. They were separated by years and miles of distance, the distance of people once so similar pulled apart by war and ideologies. This could have been avoided, but Flynn couldn't blame the separation on the war entirely. He had been the one who chose to go, although they both bore the scars that it left: deep, still bleeding, festering wounds. The kind that would not mend easily.

"Young master?" A whisper came with the knock on his door.

"Come in," he called from his seat, eyes only leaving the hearth while the old maid came in.

"You didn't come down for dinner, so I brought you up a treat. Perhaps sweets on an empty stomach is not the best idea, but it's better than nothing at all. Although there is still plenty to eat down in the kitchen." She smiled brightly and set down a tray with a pair of honey glazed, jam tarts.

"Thank you, Grandmother," he smiled, a least a little truth behind it.

"You should get some rest, sir. You've been working yourself near to death."

But the smothering warmth of his bed sounded even worse than sitting in the light of the candles. Rather, the cool night air called to him, promising a little relief from the scorching heat.

"Perhaps I'll take a walk before bed."

"It has been quite a long time since you've walked the grounds. I think it'll do you some good." Quick as a thought,she wrapped the tarts up in a square of cloth from her apron pocket. "Here. Take these with you."

"Thank you for everything."

Flynn donned his cloak, a light summer one, but it was still uncomfortably warm. It didn't help that the evening was not at all what he was promised. The air was thick and just as hot. But he did not turn back. No matter how muggy, the open air felt better than that within the manor. His relief was soon at hand.

Along the distant edge of the meadow, bordered by the forest, was a lake. Summers ago, he had played here, and it was unlikely that its cool depth had changed greatly. By the time he reached its muddy bank, clustered with soft grass and tall reeds, he knew that it had remained just as he remembered it. Its clear blue surface was a mirror for the moon, barely rippled by the fish within or passing dragonflies.

He pulled off his cloak, setting the bundle of the tarts with it, and began to undress. The warmth of the air steamed against his bare skin as he waded across the muddy bank, toes cool and sticky until he reached the water.

Without hesitation, he dove in. The water was ice cold in comparison, shocking him so that he resurfaced with a gasp, and immersed himself again. The shock to his body fizzled in his limbs, but died down after a moment. It was certainly a relief.

Flynn let the cool water wash it all away; shedding the heat of the day and the muddle of his mind like dirt as he glided through. At his core, he was Flynn and he could think of nothing better in the moment than this refuge. He hadn't felt this clear of mind in a long while, with his troubles waiting on the shore, and himself momentarily free. He drifted with the lake's flow his own wake pushing him gently to and fro like the gentle rocking of a cradle.

"It's nice to see that our honorable Sheriff knows how to relax."

His muscles tensed and his feet landed in the bottom of the lake to steady himself against a voice that surprised him. Once he heard it and not just its sudden and jarring words, he knew that there was no threat. Yuri's crooked smile from the forest edge of the lake confirmed that.

"Yuri."

"Looks like I wasn't the only one taking a little evening stroll."

"What are you doing here?" Flynn's eyes followed him as he walked to the pile of clothing, shed in a heap like a second skin.

"I heard a splash while I was walking through and I came to check it out."

He stared at those lips, and even with as relaxed as he had been, it was impossible to forget the shadow from nights before. He wasn't sure if he should even mention it, especially with how it made his blood boil.

"Mind if I join you?" Yuri didn't even wait for a response before pulling off this hood and cowl, dropping them beside Flynn's clothing.

As soon as he was bare, he dove in just as Flynn had, sending a spray of water up and over Flynn in his wake. By the time Flynn's eyes cleared of water, Yuri had emerged, slicking his long hair back from his forehead with a chuckle. The moment of peace didn't last. With a sweep of his arms, another wave crashed on Flynn, and Yuri was swimming away, laughing when he came up for air.

Flynn dove after him, cutting through the cool water and scrambling to take hold of Yuri. Each of his own breaths shuddered with laughter, half filling his lungs with water instead of air, adding coughing to the list of things he was doing better at the moment than breathing. Yuri was a much better swimmer than he remembered, considering when they had met he could barely hold still enough to float. He was managing at keeping away well enough that Flynn quickly lost track of where in the lake he was.

It wasn't anywhere near Yuri, who was treading near the muddy bank where their clothes were. It was a short swim to join him once more.

"You've gotten better," Flynn said with a sigh, stopping just short of the bank. "You used to be a terrible swimmer."

"That's true. But I'm sure you haven't gotten much better at tree climbing."

"Not at all."

"That's one thing you could never beat me at. I guess--" Yuri's voice was cut off the loud, rolling growl of his stomach, an angry protest about being empty from the sound of it.

"Haven't you eaten?" Flynn hadn't put much thought into how well his oldest friend lived in the wood. He was tall, but slender, pale skin near white in moonlight, a glow that seamed to highlight every dark scratch and scar and bruise. These were much more numerous than they had been years ago, and spoke of life events Flynn wasn't sure Yuri would let him be privy to.

"I wasn't hungry earlier," he replied.

"Come and get something from the kitchen."

"There's plenty of food waiting at my own place."

That stung sharp against the inner wall of his chest. He hadn't intended to sound as desperate as he had, or to say it to begin with. But the underlying purpose was still there, and Yuri knew that. It was a plea.

"Wait."

He remembered the bundle with his cloak and reached far enough up the bank to grab the cheesecloth. He pulled it open and revealed the tarts.

"Are those Grams'?" Those hard charcoal eyes softened just a little.

"Made fresh this morning. Have one."

Although he hesitated a moment, he needed no further invitation. He picked up one of the glistening tarts and ate it with the greatest of care. A small smile tugged at his lips as he finished that last bite. Flynn was just finishing his own, watching from the corner of his eyes.

"That's something that hasn't changed," Yuri muttered, throwing a lock of his dripping hair over his shoulder.

"It doesn't have to be like this." Flynn leaned in, taking one of Yuri's hands in his.

Yuri's expression softened further, and he did not move away, even as Flynn drew closer still. Pale, slick skin warmed with blood beneath his hands, a flush so faint that he could have been mistaken in seeing it. But he could not mistake the feeling of it lingering in Yuri's cheeks, a warmth cupped in his cool hands. The kiss between them lasted a moment longer this time, his aching heart burning through beats before their lips parted.

"Please, come home."

Yuri's hands fumbled at his shoulders and dropped as Flynn kissed him again, and then a third time. The thought of the shadow still burned him like a brand, and Yuri pressed a hand between them.

His voice came soft and sullen, barely a whisper of a summer's breeze. "There are a lot of reasons I can't come back."

He couldn't hold it back any longer. The image of that night, of those shadows, was too painful to his mouth to contain. "Like Lady Estellise?"

Yuri jerked back out of his arms, putting a step's distance between them, his eyes searching Flynn's for something. Those words had been sharp and Yuri's reaction to their sound only made matters that much worse.

"I saw you on her balcony the other night. You kissed her." Flynn clenched his fists beneath the water, but it did little to cool the burning in his veins. "I had hoped it wasn't you, that I was mistaken. But I wasn't, was I?"

"Flynn you have no idea what you're talking about." A haughty, angry laugh spilled from Yuri's lips. "Not all nobles share your taste for commoners."

"Don't laugh at me! You... I-I always--!"

"I know," he flashed back, sharp as a knife.

Flynn was the one who flinched this time. In anger, he found his tongue fighting to change the subject, for something to keep Yuri talking. He needed to hear the truth straight out. Yuri owed him that much. "Don't you dare get her involved in your criminal activity!"

"I wouldn't endanger her like that," Yuri growled in reply, eyes dark and narrow.

All this could have been solved so easily if Yuri just gave in. It really didn't have to be like this. He was being the stubborn one, the cryptic one. Why couldn't he just tell Flynn the truth outright? What happened to the trust and friendship that had once held them together, that Flynn still held so close, so dear?

Yuri pulled himself roughly from the water, pulling on his pants and boots. Without a word, he gathered up the rest of his clothing and disappeared into the forest.

Left cold and more alone than before, dark hollowness welling a terrible pit in his insides, tearing him up, pulling him apart, Flynn could ask himself only one thing: What had happened to their bond?

* * *

 

He fled into the woods, tail tucked between his legs like a great coward, pulling fabric over his still very damp skin.It clung to him in patches, a wet, uncomfortable cold that he couldn't shake. That wasn't the only thing he couldn't shake.

The ache in his chest was so tight that he could have vomited just to feel better. His limbs trembled, not with cold, but with fury and something dark, something deep, heavy like an iron weight. It threatened to pull him down, to drag him under, and crush him. But he couldn't let it. He had too much to do to give in now.

Flynn didn't understand. Or he couldn't.

 _It doesn't have to be this way._ Words barbed and weighted against him, words that ate away at his resolved.

_Please come home._

Flynn couldn't see things the way Yuri had. Did he not even think for a moment that Yuri _wanted_ to come home, that he didn't _want_ things to turn out as they had? That what they had before was all that he wanted?

But they couldn't go back to those days. They were long gone, just as the Flynn and Yuri of that time were. All they had now was distance, so vast that Yuri wasn't sure how to cross it, how to fix it. He wasn't even sure he could.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Crouched in the silence of the trees, he waited for the flash of a silver knife. Only greenery among the trees told him that there was nothing yet. They had been waiting for almost two hours for the promised carriage to come through. There was still no definite word on if this was a trap or not. He suspected it was. For Alexei to have knowingly chosen a route through the forest smelled of either stupidity or cunning, and from what Yuri knew, Alexei was no fool.

Yuri's mind was far from fully invested in this watch. Flynn was disappointingly at the forefront all night through his sleeplessness, and well into the day. Focus was nigh impossible with the warmth of Flynn's hands still lingering on his skin, and his soft, foolish words still in Yuri's ears. He had denied those things so vehemently, yet they still nagged at him. He didn't want to think about all that, especially not with the signal flashing through the trees.

Raven's signal came, two clear, short flashes. The carriage was coming.

He pressed tighter into the tree trunk, ignoring the bark leaving imprints in his flesh. The sounds of the forest hushed as the grinding of wooden wagon wheels rang through the air, barely masking the clop of horse hooves. It was hard to determine how many horses, but for now, it was safe to assume two for the carriage minimum, and no less than four guards on horseback.

His eyes drifted from the trail to Judith's position in a cluster of bushes below Raven's perch. She was fixed on something. It must have been coming around the corner.

The carriage had barely come into view when she stated flashing her signal at him, quick and controlled. The carriage was big and gilded and grand, pulled by a team of two white horses. At the head, rode Flynn, and Yuri swore under his breath about his presence. The guards behind it numbered a dozen. Her signal warned of a trap, more troops than they had expected, and advised in its flashing against springing the counter trap. Flynn's presence was just as much of a deterrent.

Pulling his knife from its sheath, he flashed back an affirmation, and then the halt order to Karol down the path. And all of them sat and watched the carriage drive right by untouched. Only once it was well on its way, did he drop down from his tree, and gather with the others just off the trail.

"No doubt a trap." Judith said, tapping her chin with one finger. "To think we'd fall for a decoy like that."

"Decoy?" Yuri asked.

"From the sound of the rattling inside, it wasn't carrying anything but empty boxes. Wouldn't that make sense, though? A grand carriage with guards comes through the forest, but only to serve as a trap or distraction from the real target. The first one is too obvious. I bet if we wait just a little longer, an easier looking mark will come around."

"Let's wait then," Yuri said. "We'll get back in position and see what else comes our way."

They parted, and back into the tree he climbed. At least he hadn't had to confront Flynn.

 

The forest returned to its usual ambiance, sounds muffled slightly by the folds of his hood. Daylight wore on, sunlight shifting as it filtered through the canopy. It was almost relaxing, and he might have drifted off into a nap if Flynn hadn't still been weighing on his mind. He had too much else to worry about to be burdened by pointless thoughts of days gone by and days that would never be. Yuri had chosen his path before and he wasn't going to falter now. Not even for Flynn. Things couldn't go back to the way they had been. It was impossible, no matter how much they both wanted it.

Midday brought with it swampy heat that burned in his limbs and drew the moisture from his mouth. Even his high perch offered only the slightest breeze for relief. His legs and back were sore from the constant shifting he found himself doing in a vain attempt to get comfortable. It was looking bleak until he saw the flash of Raven's knife from across the trail.

Yuri scrambled to attention, watching the trail and training his ears on the tiniest, unnatural sounds. The squeal of wooden wagon wheels, and the clop of hooves. Judith must have seen it already, and the flashes of her signal were just as quick and much more hopeful. They all waited.

Just as the first carriage had, a second came around the bend in the trail. It was a homely wooden cargo wagon pulled by a single old mare with a cloaked driver and second person in the seat. It was nothing more interesting than a load of straw from one of the local farms and would normally be nothing to bother with. The people of the village were never his targets. But a second signal from Judith, two long flashes and three short, gave him cause for more than a cursory glance.

With a sharp whistle, he called Repede. The dog leapt from the bushes and instantly the horse reared, whinnying and spooked. He stood in the path, safe from the trampling hooves and growled long and low. The horse whipped the reins out of the driver's hands, and Repede caught them in his teeth. A gentle yank pulled the horse back, and although it expressed its displeasure with a snort, it seemed to calm.

Perfectly planned, everyone else sprung into action. Judith and Raven pinned the driver and his passenger, both of whom reached into their cloaks before they found blades pressed against their throats. Karol leapt into the wagon bed, and Yuri dropped down out of the tree and into the path.

"Well, what have we here?" he asked, brushing bark and moss from his gloved hands.

"J-Just simple travelers, sir!" the passenger started to explain. "We head to Devonshire--"

Judith cut him off, reaching across his lap and drawing the long sword form his hip. "Oh my, how well prepared you are!"

Raven pulled the driver's sword, turning the hilt in his hand as he examined it. "Can't say I've ever seen common travelers carrying swords of the castle guard."

"Or carrying a big chest full of coins like this!" Karol added, throwing aside a bunch of straw to reveal just that. He had made quick work of the lock.

Disarmed, the two guards were un-hooded and tied up. Judith and Yuri were careful to tie their hands tightly and bind their legs together. He and Raven unloaded the chest, a plain, but heavy box filled quite full with coins, and set it off the path temporarily. Judith took a great deal of pleasure in tossing the guards into the back of the wagon, leaving them nestled safe but struggling in the hay. She took even more glee in knocking them out with Karol's help.

Their work done, Yuri took the horse's reins from Repede, calming the animal with a gentle stroke of its mane.

"To think a thing like this bridle would have given them away," Judith said, admiring the fine tool work on the leather straps, held in place with disks of hammered silver.

"We got what we came for." Yuri turned the carriage around to face the way along the trail it had come from. With a slap on the hindquarter, the mare galloped away, dragging the wagon with it.

Triumphantly, they carried the chest back to camp. Over fish frying on the fire, they counted out and sorted their loot according to the meticulous list Judith kept. Each person in the village would get a share, some more to get them out of jail, others enough to keep them free and their families fed a little longer. Yuri knew that this was an ever temporary solution. Taxes would come due again in no time and Yuri would be hard pressed to come up with more money. It was a losing battle, but it was the only one he could fight.

Counting the money gave him no joy, but not much did with the heavy weight on his chest. At least this was going to help people. At least he was doing something. What was Flynn doing?

He was the Sheriff, but he was still under the prince's thumb. Maybe he really did mean well, but what good did meaning well do? What action was he taking to help the people? Estelle said that he had an audience with the prince, but Yuri hadn't mentioned that during their brief, watery encounter the night before. He hadn't had much of a chance, with Flynn getting desperate and touchy with him. If any good had come from said audience, though, it was something that Yuri hadn't been able to see yet. His idea of fixing the law would take time, and it might not be time the people had. At least Yuri was doing _something_ , no matter how temporary or futile.

Rita joined them gruffly, helping portion out the money while she told them about the arrival of the first carriage outside the abbey and how vexed the guards had been. They passed around the fish and hunks of bread and cheese. The food filled his belly and conversation filled his head, but his chest was still heavy and hollow.

 

When he said that the plan went off without a hitch, that was a bad thing. At least in terms of being the Sheriff.

He had rather hastily been thrown into another of Alexei and the prince's plans that morning, and filled in on very little. All he knew what that he was to escort a carriage through the forest and to to the other side. With the grandeur of the carriage, they had expected to be attacked, and were disappointed when they weren't. Well, Flynn hadn't been disappointed so much as relieved. He found out that they had been a decoy for Robin Hood, and that another carriage, disguised, would be following along with the actual gold.

At first, Flynn wondered why they hadn't been attacked. Even with a dozen guards and himself, Yuri would have taken the risk. Or was Flynn the reason that Yuri had chosen not to attack? Was his mere presence, and the threat of inadvertently being exposed, deterrent enough?

But more than likely, Yuri had realized that it was a trap. If he hadn't, one of his teammates might have. That was all behind him, though, and he returned to his office to work out the remainder of the day.

Calling on LeBlanc, they focused on the current status of the town itself.

"Did the patrol from the west gate come back with anything?" he asked, looking over his scroll of a map, splayed over his desk and held in place by a cup and a book.

"Everything has checked out for the afternoon."

"First shift ends soon. The night watch has strict orders regarding who comes and goes through the gates as usual."

Granted, that did nothing for their overall problem. Yuri wasn't going to come walking into town. He was stubborn, but not stupid. On top of that, he was no danger to the villagers. And with people in his employ who could move about freely in the town, and likely did so right under Flynn's nose, nothing was truly off limits to him.

"Have we collected all of the taxes for the week?"

"I'm afraid not, sir. Adecor and Boccos are going to make the evening rounds shortly. There were still many who were not able to pay this morning. Perhaps after a hard day's work at market, things will fare better," LeBlanc explained. Flynn hated the idea of those two attempting to collect taxes with their aggressiveness, so Flynn often went himself, even though he did not relish the task.

"Just recall them. I will go myself," he said with a sigh.

"Keep them on a leash then. I know they get a bit... zealous, about their duty, but they really do mean well."

"Lots of people 'mean well,'" he mumbled. "It doesn't mean they're doing 'well'.  
Yuri meant well. Yuri's people meant well. LeBlanc, Adecor, Boccos meant well. Estellise surely meant well. Maybe even in their own twisted sense, Prince Cumore and Alexei both 'meant well', although that was difficult for Flynn to see. Intentions and actions were two very different things ,and intentions, no matter how good and pure, did not validate unlawful or ruthless actions. And Yuri's intentions certainly didn't.

Maybe he really was just doing what he believed was the right thing to do. Maybe it /was/ the right thing to do. Maybe it was Flynn who was mistaken.

No sooner could LeBlanc question his statement then a loud knock came at the door of his office. LeBlanc didn't hesitate in answering it, and Flynn's stomach hardened at the sight of Alexei standing there. The look he wore was plain and serious, but hid an underlying rage that would not be expressed in volume, but in tone and carefully chosen words.

"Out," he said sternly to Leblanc, who shot Flynn a passing and apologetic glance before doing as he was told. The door shut behind him and Flynn was left alone with Alexei in the crushing quiet.

"Perhaps you'd like to debrief me on the mission from today." He stood in front of him, towering over him, his long, shadow stretched over the surface of his desk. He wasn't going to like what Flynn had to say about it, and something about the blankness of his face made it safe to assume that he already knew.

Qualms about the trap aside, Flynn spoke, "We made it all the way through the forest without a single problem. We encountered not a soul in the forest." It was the truth, even though he was certain the Yuri had been watching.

"Robin Hood did not make his appearance then."

"Sherwood Forest was as silent as the grave."

"Then do you mind explaining how the second carriage returned to the castle after having been plundered?" From the beginning, Flynn had expected something like this. Alexei's very brief line of questioning was accusatory in nature, and again, he looked to pin the blame on Flynn.

"Unfortunately, sir, I don't know." Perhaps his own tone was a little sharper than it should have been, but he continued. "You see, I knew nothing of your attempted trap until this morning when my men and I were given the word that we would escort one carriage from the castle. I had no idea about a second carriage or what it carried. I'm certain, though, that your men did tell you of Robin Hood--"

"Vainglorious little--" Alexei stopped himself before the outburst of his temper could erupt. "The Prince has seen this as a failure on your part. After all, you still have not captured that miscreant. He continues to run rampant and terrorize the people."

Where Cumore had gotten that this was Flynn's fault, he had no idea, but he certainly suspected that Alexei had no problem aggravating the issue.

"Expect that your next failure will cost you your job, if not your head."

"Yes, sir." Alexei had to hear the disdain barely concealed behind those words. He watched Alexei leave, nearly slamming the door behind him had it not been for LeBlanc's entry.

"Zealous isn't quite strong enough a word for /him/," Flynn muttered.

"What was that, sir?" LeBlanc asked.

"Nothing." He stood from his desk. "I'm going to make evening rounds. Please lock up before you leave."

"Of course, sir."

Flynn went to do a job he hated. From the town square, he went from house to house, knocking. Some residents ignored his attempts to collect, others gave him any number of reasons why they could not pay, or only pay a small sum, and he believed them, as frustrating as it was. Those who were able to pay, were likely only able to do so with Yuri's aid. They thanked him for his patience with him or cursed him beneath their breath, but every coin that fell into his pouch with a click only sickened him further. This was not his job. This was the prince's wish for him to mercilessly crush these people, to tear the very soul out of them with their taxes, and Flynn was forced to take part. What more could he do when he was duty bound? Cumore had been right. He was the keeper of the law, but in truth, he had no power to change it.

Sunset was fast approaching but the icy hardness of his stomach gave him no sense of time. How many houses had he been through at this point and how much filthy money had he collected? He wasn't sure, but the pouch on his belt felt increasingly heavy. His blood ran cold with the thought of the answer as he knocked on a door, the final in his rounds.

"Come in," and elderly voice called, followed by a squeak of a second voice.

Heavyhearted, he opened the door. Within the hovel, a bent old woman sat in the chair before the hearth, milky eyes looking up at him. Beside her, a boy stood, maybe twelve, with brown eyes fixed on him in surprise. Flynn was just as surprised to see the boy whom he recognized instantly. This was definitely the same boy who had been in the castle with Yuri during his robbery of the treasury.

Their eyes locked for a moment and the sweat that beaded on the boy's brow spoke of fear. That only meant one thing: Yuri hadn't told his people about Flynn.

There were no words Flynn could use to convey to the boy that he wasn't the enemy. It wasn't clear _what_ Flynn was to either Yuri or this cause, but he wasn't the enemy. They had different ideas about how best to fix things, they had differences and disagreements, but in the end, they were of the same mind. They both wanted to change things. Yuri was the only one doing anything with some success.

"Who's there?" The old woman asked, tilting her head to peer at him vaguely.

"The Sheriff, ma'am," he replied.

"Oh, you must be here about the taxes." She grumbled, standing with the aid of the boy's shoulder.

"Yes, ma'am."

She dug absently in the pocket of her apron, but seemed to find nothing. Rather, the boy produced the coins, five of them, bright and shining silver.

"Here you are, Grandmother," he said and pressed them into her bony hand.

"Oh, oh my yes. here." She passed them on to Flynn.

"Thank you ma'am, and good evening."

She shut the door abruptly behind him. It didn't surprise him. Many people had been short with him. She was no different. But wasn't what bothered him now. The presence of the boy had, the surprise and fear plain on his face when Flynn locked eyes with him. That look told him that Yuri hadn't told them about Flynn, and that meant nothing less than the fact that Yuri didn't trust him.

He wasn't the only one with wavering trust. Flynn wanted so hard to believe in Yuri, but that didn't make this any easier. Between stealing and lying and getting Lady Estellise involved in his plots, could _Flynn_ trust _him_?

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

"I got _this_ close to him, Yuri! He almost had me!" Karol said, wavering somewhere between fear and awe.

"I told you not to worry about him," Yuri replied, paying as much attention to the rhythmic scrape of his knife over the dark whetstone as he did to Karol. "He's harmless."

"What makes you say that?"

Answering that question was harder than it should have been. "He hasn't caught us yet. He hasn't even gotten close." If only they knew just how close Flynn really had gotten.

"Well, there was that one time."

"Other than that. He doesn't even suspect."

"If you say so...." Karol returned to kindling the fire, breaking up twigs to feed its flame. He poked at the fish skewered above it. "Are they ready to eat yet?"

"Once the eyes are cloudy."

"Oh...."

Darkness had fallen and the moonlight left faint traces of white in the canopy above, almost completely obscured by dense foliage. It was time. He fitted his knife back into its leather sheath and stood. Repede rose from his spot beside the fire, a stretch in his step.

"You leaving?"

"Yeah. Estelle's probably expecting me."

"Okay. Be careful."

He leaned down and ruffled the boy's hair. "I'll be back soon. Tell Judy and Raven not to wait up for me."

"You know they will anyway."

They always did.

He lifted his hood and he and Repede took to the darkened forest. Over fallen trees and through thickets and vines, they traversed. What paths were not lit by moonlight could still be seen once his eyes adjusted to the darkness. They had taken this path dozen of times before, but were careful not to clear the old hunting paths too much. They didn't need anyone to become suspicious. It was a long walk, but it never felt as long as it was. He knew the forest too well.

They came out through the brush beside the castle wall. With a signal, Repede ducked under a nearby bush and would wait there until Yuri was done with his visit.

Uncoiling a length of rope with a slip knot at one end, he swung it up as hard as he could and caught hold of an iron lantern peg embedded in the stone wall. Just like always, he tightened the rope and tested the strength of the peg before starting his vertical climb. In a few moments' time, he was up the rope and scaling the roof with equal ease.

He peered down onto the balcony before descending. It was vacant, and the lantern was hanging there, his signal that she was waiting for him. With a cat's footfall, he descended onto the stone, crouching by the curtains.

For a long moment, there was silence. She might have fallen asleep waiting for him. He waited still for a sound of her presence.

Softly, a humming reached his ears, its melody one familiar in the years he had known her. He stood and slowly swept aside the curtains to enter. She wasn't in her normal spot waiting for him. She was probably off in a chair reading, so he took another step inward and whispered her name.

"Estelle?"

The humming ceased and there was only silence.

"Come on, now. Where are you?" He batted at the curtain that separated her sleeping chamber from the sitting room, but drew back, skin prickling with goosebumps as it was parted by someone else's hands. It wasn't Estelle.

The face and copper hair belonged to another woman, her purple eyes alight with fear and fury. He had only a second to discern that it must have been Estelle's lady-in-waiting before he took a step back, preparing for her to scream for the guards. But she didn't call the guards. The steel in her hand spoke for her.

"Hey, wait!"

"Get out!" She cried, and plunged the blade forward.

Cold steel slipped into his abdomen, piercing hot flesh. She yanked the blade back, advancing on him, but all he could feel was warmth spilling out of the wound, soaking his shirt as he fumbled through the curtains and slammed into the stone balcony. The breath was forced from his lungs and he fought to scramble to his feet and to the rope to take him to the roof. She was nearly on him, screaming finally for the guards, but the sound was drowned out by the pounding of blood in his ears and the feel of the slick heat in his hand as he tried to staunch the flow.

It took all his strength to ascend to the roof. In the courtyard below, guards were gathering, hearing something amiss but unsure yet what. Yuri couldn't wait for them to find out. He scrabbled over the roof tiles, his blood spotting across them as he found the peak and started to descend to the lantern peg where his hope for escape was.

Although he gripped the rope tight, his fingers were weak and slick with blood and sweat. He had exerted too much energy trying to get to this point, but stopping now was a death sentence. Unsteadily, his feet tried to keep against the wall, but the weakness of his hands couldn't keep him aloft.

He barely realized when he slipped, but his rough landing, crashing into a bush, sharpened his attention. He struggled to free himself from broken branches and thorns. The bleeding hadn't slowed and his head was getting heavier with every attempt at movement.

Managing a whistle, he called Repede to his side. "Go. Get help," he said, words coming out with labored breaths.

Repede whined and licked him and looked back at him only once before dashing off. His vision was going watery and black and his limbs cold. He had to hold on.

* * *

 

After the idea came to him, he thought often about just how bad of one it was. He was still going through with it, if only to fulfill some misguided sense of curiosity. Yuri had been as tight lipped as ever at their last meeting. Perhaps if he could appeal to Estellise, to let her know what was going on, she would fill him in on the details. On one hand, it was worth a shot. Maybe she could convince Yuri where Flynn could not. On the other hand, she might be completely unwilling to speak and leave him with no more information than he had at this moment. He couldn't just leave this alone though.

The night ride was warm and an all too painful reminder of his last warm evening out and how poorly that encounter had gone. With luck, this would be less infuriating and abysmal than that had been, and hopefully, she wouldn't begrudge him an audience at this late hour.

The moon was high as he rode, its light bright on the dirt road, and it cut over the hills and up to the castle, leaving the grey stone awash in white. Although a strange urgency had set in his limbs, he let the horse choose her pace through the darkness.

As they neared the castle, he could hear noise spilling out of the gate, people shouting, but that wasn't the only noise. Well before he could reach the gates, he was intercepted by the sudden appearance of a dog. Startled, his horse reared back, but he steadied her. It took him only seconds to recognize the massive canine that Yuri had introduced him to.

"Repede?"

Repede barked at him and dashed away. He stopped mid-stride and barked back at him, as if beckoning to follow, so Flynn did.

Up the hill and around the edge of the castle, he steered his horse to a walk as he saw Repede stop, waiting by a crumpled bush. He barked to hasten his dismount, but did not move from the bush. Flynn quickly found out why he had been led there, and sank to his knees beside Yuri.

"Yuri!" He shook him slightly.

His breath hitched in his throat, and his charcoal eyes opened only a sliver. "F-Flynn?"

"What happened to you?" he asked, but his hands were already searching for the injury. Blood spotted his gloves when he checked at Yuri's ribs. He needed something to stop the bleeding, and even more so, a place to seek help. Tearing the sleeve of his tunic away, he pressed it into the wound and tore at the bush to pull Yuri free. "Hang on."

"Estelle's... lady-in... fuck-!" he gasped as Flynn yanked him free as gently as possible, letting him lay limp against his chest. "Guess I surprised her. She's... pretty sharp with a knife."

"Don't talk. Just stay with me."

Flynn pushed Yuri into the saddle, letting him lean against the horse's neck until he mounted and was able to cradle him. The problem now was where to go. The village doctor would be asleep and Yuri's life could not be recklessly placed in the hands of those they could not trust. The people of the village may have respected him by and large, but there would still be those whose alliances could be swayed by a heavy coin purse. Repede seemed eager to offer a solution however, and as before, he barked for Flynn to follow him.

Across the darkened meadows they rode, along a short, overgrown path through the woods, and Flynn drove his horse ever harder, head full of worry and chest full of pain. In his arms, Yuri was muttering, the fingers of one hand gripping the fold of fabric above his belt.

"You shouldn't talk. You need to keep your strength up."

"It's not what you think... between me and Estelle."

He wanted to hush his friend again, but that thread of curiosity had his attention. "What do you mean?"

"She is my sister."

"But that means...."

"Yeah." He looked up at him, eyes a little glassy from the pain. He continued, each breath labored and shuddering. "While I was looking for work... I made it back to the... Heurassein manor." He chuckled a little, a sorry sound cut off by a wet cough. "You can imagine... how well that went.

"My mother wasn't... the lord's wife, but... a simple scullery maid. I remember sitting there... while she worked in the kitchens. She always smelled of cooking. And I could never forget the... the look in her dark eyes... when she looked at me. I hadn't known what... it was then, but now... I know it was pity. But she was gone when I got back."

Flynn had never know the particulars regarding Yuri's parentage. All Yuri ever managed to tell him was that his father was a womanizer who didn't love his mother. The idea of him being a bastard child, to a nobleman no less, had never cross his mind. It seemed so obvious now.

"I guess even as kids... I kept a lot of things from you."

He could think of nothing to say, no words of comfort to offer, so he only cradled Yuri closer, and kissed the top of his head. It wasn't enough, but words wouldn't be either.

To Flynn's surprise, Repede led them to Nottingham Abbey. Yuri would be safe here. He didn't bother to tether his horse as he dismounted, Yuri still in his arms.

"Abbess!" he cried out, searching for any trace of her presence before repeating himself.

In the window of the hovel opposite the chapel, a candle lit, and her tired face appeared. She rubbed her eyes for a second, seemed to grow startled, and bustled out of the shack and toward them.

"What in heaven's name--"

"Please, Abbess. This man is badly injured. Please, some medical attention and a little sanctuary."

"Yuri!" She held the candle aloft and finally got a good look at the face of the ever weakening bundle in Flynn's arms.

"You know him?"

She did not answer, but bade him to follow her back to the thatched roof shack. She shut the door behind them and dug through the contents of a shelf as she barked orders.

"Put him on the bed, and get that shirt off of him."

Dutifully, Flynn did as he was told, propping Yuri up in the bed only long enough to remove the jerkin and blood soaked shirt that he wore. The dark green fabric had hidden the extent of the bleeding from his eyes in the dark of the night, but in flickering yellow candlelight, the vast stain was painfully obvious and the wound even worse. It was a thin cut, just above Yuri's hip, probably deep. He laid Yuri, gasping, down and pressed the clean remains of the shirt against the wound.

"Yuri, stay with me."

He swore between clenched teeth. At least he was somewhat conscious.

The abbess returned with a box, which opened to reveal a simple medical kit. She shooed him out of the way and set about cleaning the wound. The bleeding had thankfully slowed by this time, but that hardly meant Yuri was going to be okay.

"What happened to you, you idiot?"

"I found out--ah-- that Estelle's maid--fuck," he hissed. "Snuck in at a bad time."

Yuri's knuckles were white as his face against the linen sheets and he hissed and gasped with nearly every breath. When Flynn took one hand in his own, he held it just as tight, squeezing to alleviate even the tiniest bit of pain.

Needle glistening in the candlelight, Rita made slow, careful stitches to close the wound. Flynn felt every prick, every gasp and groan and sigh Yuri muttered between stitches. His fingers trembled in Flynn's hand, holding on for his life. He felt it all as if it was his own pain because he could do nothing else.

She tied the knot closed and cleaned the wound again. A heavy layer of sharply scented, greasy unguent and a layer of muslin bandages around his waist would aid the healing process. Once laid back and allowed to remain still, Yuri calmed, his shaking and noises easing. His hand grew limp in Flynn's as he drifted out of consciousness.

"He should be fine," Rita said, boxing up her small surgeon case. She didn't look at Flynn as she crossed the room and tucked it back onto the shelf. "I won't ask about what sort of relationship you have with him, but I still find it hard to believe that the Sheriff shows up with... well, him."

"Robin Hood."

"So you do know."

"We're childhood friends."

She shook her head as if in disbelief. "No matter. Now that he's safe, you should go."

He didn't want to go, but Rita made it clear that she wasn't going to tolerate his presence much further. One last time, he stood over Yuri, and smoothed the sweat-plastered hair back from his forehead. Although his heart felt the tiniest bit of relief over the situation, he knew that sleep would not come easily tonight.

Flynn pulled back and thanked Rita again. He left Repede with her and took off for home. Atop his horse, he felt the distance between them grow once more, a little less cold this time.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Morning light pushed back the darkness that had settled over his eyes. He pried them open and tried to stretch, but a sudden, sharp pain in his abdomen put a quick stop to that. He winced and eased back onto the straw mattress and took a better look at his surroundings.

"Good. You're awake," Rita leaned over him, obscuring his view of the interior of her house as she pounded away at her mortar with pestle in hand.

"What happened?" Yuri asked that, throat sticky and rough, but much of the memory of that moment already lingered in his body. He found the bandages across his belly with one hand. "Ah, never mind. I remember now."

She helped him sit up slowly, and shoved a cup of water and a simple bowl of porridge at him. "Were you planning on telling us that the Sheriff of Nottingham was a childhood friend of yours?”

He regarded the food quietly so he wouldn't have to look her in the eye. The tapping of her foot told him that she was quickly getting impatient with his silence, and wouldn't tolerate it much longer. He really couldn't avoid this any longer, no matter how much he still wanted to keep this from them. She already knew so it was pointless to deny it.

"At first, I didn't think he'd remember me."

"Well, that's one thing you don't have to worry about."

"Don't tell the others." It was infinitely more a plea than a command.

"It's none of my business." That was confirmation enough that his secret was safe.

"How are the others?"

"Everyone's fine. And while I don't like the idea of moving you with that injury, we're going to have to."

"I can't be out in the open for too long. It's too risky,"

"Raven's coming by to help get you home. Finish your breakfast and take this with you." She left it at that, dropping a little pot of salve on the bedside table, and slipped out of the shack.

It took more effort to eat than it should have, but he ate the porridge and drank the water. Stacking the dishes beside the bed, he very slowly turned to try and put his feet on the floor. His legs were leaden and unsteady, but his feet touched the floor and he gave himself a moment. The wound on his side was throbbing dully. It would need fresh bandages before too long.

Beside his boots on the floor, amid the bloodied shirt and his jerkin was a scrap of bright blue cloth, soaked through with dark, dried blood. It was the sleeve of Flynn's tunic.

So Flynn had brought him here. Yuri's head drooped, cheeks growing warm with the blood that rushed in his skin. He had pulled him out of the bush and rode all the way here with Yuri in his arms, and during the stitches that marred his side, had even held his -- it was too much to think of. Of course Flynn would readily do those things. There was no need for Yuri to feel so flustered over it.

After a long moment of sitting upright, he tried to stand, the weight of his body causing his legs to wobble. He held firm and steadied himself. The first step was hard, the second easier, and by the third, he was walking. It was more a limp than a walk, but he was moving on his own and that was enough. This would take some healing before he was back at full strength. At least he was awake and alive. Although this did put a hold on visits to Estelle for a while. He didn't even know if she knew what had happened. She was probably worried about him. Maybe Rita could get her a message for him.

He gathered up the salve, his shirt, and jerkin and stumbled out of Rita's tiny home and into the bright, sunlit courtyard. A familiar pair was there to greet him. Raven was slumped against the stone wall of the chapel, eyes closed, head tilted back, and from beside him Repede sprung up to dash at Yuri. Although excited, he didn't barrel into him, but skidded to a stop in front of him, tail wagging. He whined, flattening his ears.

"I'm okay, Repede. Thanks to you." He teetered a little as he reached down to scratch the dog behind the ears.

He whined again and bumped against him gently.

"How ya feelin', lad?" Raven asked, joining them with a stretch in his step.

"I'll live."

"Glad to hear it. We've been worried sick about you."

Yuri waited for him to ask how he had gotten here if he had been stabbed at that castle, but the question, thankfully, never came. He wasn't sure yet how he could explain if without telling them about Flynn.

Wordlessly, they left the abbey, trading pious white stone walls for the soft ambiance of the forest green. Old trails he could have easily traversed became a chore, and he hated himself a little more each time he had to stop and take a break. He tried to be careful with the wound and managed to get back to the fort without it reopening. Their arrival finally brought him some proper rest and he took the opportunity to flop down on a log before the fire.

After a brief moment, he and Raven unwound the old bandages to get a look at the mark.

"Oh, looks like she got you good," he said, mimicking the shape of a knife in his hands thrusting forward. The simple, joking moment sent a chill up his spine. "She must not have hit anything vital 'cause you made it all the way back here."

"Suppose it was pretty lucky." It wasn't only luck. If Flynn hadn't been there when he had, there was no telling what would have happened. It still hurt like hell, and the additional smear of unguent and a fresh set of bandages only dulled that slightly. For now, he would just have to take things easy.

Through the pain, a thought occurred to him. What more had happened that night? Sodia had called for the guards. Were they looking for him? There was probably an awful lot of blood in that bush and probably dotting the road the whole way to the abbey. And what had happened to Flynn?

Repede, who had gone off to nose around through the bushes, returned at a dash, Judith and Karol behind him.

"What's the hurry?" Raven asked.

"It's about Estelle!"

Karol's words, tinged with panic, forced Yuri to sit up once more. The throb in his head nearly knocked him back, but Repede steadied him. "What's going on?" he asked, voice crackling.

"She's been imprisoned," Judith explained. Her tone was calmer, but quiet in an unsettling way.

"Why?"

"I think it's safe to assume her lady-in-waiting let slip about your little fiasco of sneaking in. It's easy to conclude that they believe she's in league with you at the very least."

"A couple of town guards were talking about her being taken back to the capital to stand trial for treason against the crown," Karol added.

Yuri had never intended to get her involved in his dirty work, even though she willingly shared with him any information that she got within the walls of the castle. Her predicament was his fault and it was impossible to ignore the fact that, even for a woman of pure noble blood, treason carried a heavy and undignified sentence.

"If they're heading to the capital, they won't take the path through Sherwood. They know it'll be too risky," Raven explained, drawing a little map in the dirt beside the fire with a twig. "Likely, they'll play it safe this time and take the long way around."

Yuri didn't have time to panic. They needed a plan. "If they take the long way, they'll pass the abbey."

"If we can get them to stop, we should be able to save her," Judith said.

"But how will we get them to stop?" Karol asked.

"Disabling the carriage would probably work. It can't go too far if its axle's cracked or a wheel comes loose."

"It'll be hard to do that while it's in motion. And we don't have the time to get her a message," Judith stated.

"We'll just have to ambush them from the abbey." Nothing else made sense. Stealth would have been preferable, but surprise could do in a pinch.

"Not in your condition." Almost instantly, they all objected.

"There's no choice. I don't have time to sit by and heal while she gets carried off to certain death."

"Lad...."

"We'll launch an all out assault from the abbey. We'll make them stop, and we'll get Estelle."

Apprehensive looks passed from one member of his party to another, but none of them questioned him further. They knew his mind was set and nothing was going to change that. They didn't have time, and neither did Estelle.

 

* * *

 

He'd hardly been able to sleep for worrying, a dull unease settling in his chest and limbs, but Yuri was alive. Flynn knew it. Rita had assured him that Yuri would be fine.

Flynn was unsure how much Estellise knew about the injury, but just to be safe, he was at the castle to give her word of Yuri's condition.

An odd quiet had settled over the castle. The guards paid him no mind as he wandered to the great hall. The gathered court did not seem at all unusual, save for the lack of Lady Estellise's presence, so he slipped by them unnoticed and headed through the stone corridors and the stairs leading upwards to the east wing of the castle.

Rounding the corner, he spotted Lady Estellise's door. The two guards that stood there filled the pit of his stomach with dread. Sodia ducked out of the door, tray in hand, and was only briefly acknowledged by the guards before she walked in his direction. In her apparent distraction, she hadn't noticed him. Her eyes shot up to meet his when he gently took hold of her arm and pulled her aside out of the view of the guard. Her dismay did not escape his notice.

"Sher--"

He silenced her with a motion and let her go. "What's going on here?" He asked very softly.

"Lady Estellise, she's... been placed under house arrest. And it's all my fault."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought I was doing the right thing when I told Lord Alexei about the stranger who snuck into her room only a night ago." Cradling the tray in one arm, she bit fiercely at the tip of her thumb. "I had no idea that the man I fought off was--"

As much as he would have like to have felt a proper anger to the fact that she had wounded Yuri badly, he could see it in her face, in her trembling posture, that it had been in Estellise's defense. Yuri had said as much. He had surprised her and she had acted in self defense and defense of her lady.

"Can you get me in to see her?"

Sodia straightened and took a deep breath. "I will do what I can."

With a nod, he followed her to the heavy wooden door that stood guarded.

"The Sheriff is here to see Lady Estellise," she said, calm as could be.

"Lord Alexei expressly forbid visitors," the first guard said.

"I'm not here for a visit," Flynn replied, harshness to his tone to express his point. "I'm here to _question_ her."

"No visitors," the second guard replied.

"Lord Alexei ordered the Sheriff here," Sodia said matter-of-factly. "Imagine how furious he'll be if he finds out that you two purposefully broke orders and delayed the catching of Robin Hood."

That gave them pause. They looked at each other, questioning, but finally seemed to relent. The first unlocked the door for them and slid it open while the second made a comment.

"I wish the commander would bother to tell us things like this."

"I know."

The rest of their conversation was cut off by the shutting and locking of the exterior latch. Estellise rose from her seat by the fire in surprise, eyes ringed in red, and Flynn's name stumbling over her lips. "Sheriff Flynn."

Sodia excused herself, and just as outside, Flynn spoke in a hushed tone. "Are you all right, Lady Estellise?"

"Yes, but Yuri--"

"He's fine. He's alive."

He saw relief fill her color-drained face, but it was temporary. "Alexei's planned a trap for him."

"A trap?"

"Yes," she took a ragged breath. "He let out a rumor that I am to be tried for treason in the capital. They intend to capture him when he comes to rescue me."

Yuri had managed to avoid traps before, but this one was one he might not be able to, even if he knew that it was a setup. If Estellise was involved at all, he was probably planning on rushing in, devil may care, to do what needed to be done to free her. That might be his undoing.

"Where are they planning the ambush?"

"The abbey just beyond the forest."

He might already be too late. The very place where he had taken Yuri in order to save his life could be the same place it was ended. Maybe there was still time. If Rita had gotten wind of anything, she would have warned Yuri. He couldn't count on that. He couldn't be assured that Yuri would be safe until he saw him with his own two eyes.

"I'll warn him." It was a promise Flynn hoped he could keep.

Moments later, he rode out from the castle, pushing his horse as fast as she would go along the road. He had to get there in time. Yuri's life depended on it.

* * *

 

In his condition, getting over the abbey wall was ill advised, if not impossible. He knew he shouldn't be up and moving and the others took every opportunity to remind him of his current feebleness. It didn't make coping with it any easier. If he couldn't go over the wall, under it would have to do, although crawling on his hands and knees hadn't done his wound much good.

Brushing the mud off his knees, Yuri wobbled as he stood. Repede helped to support him and steady his step. He reached to give the dog a pat, but felt flattened ears beneath his hand and the rumble of a growl. Repede bristled, lip curling up to bare sharp white teeth.

"What is it?" he asked softly, scanning the area.

The abbey courtyard was quiet, but no more so than usual. Rita was likely out in the town, so it would be no surprise if they were alone. But according to Repede, they weren't.

For the moment, he and Repede ducked behind the chapel and would wait. The others weren't far behind now. They should have been circling the abbey and waiting for his signal.

"Yuri, watch out!" Karol called from the far wall, his voice followed by the twang of bowstrings and shouting of guards. From the opposite wall, Judith let out a similar shout, and a clash of blades followed.

This had been a trap and they had walked right into it.

He let out a long, shrill whistle, expelling all the air in his lungs on it so that it could be heard loud and clear: a retreat signal. Another round of bowstrings sang and a whistle came in reply. Raven and Karol were safely retreating. A heartbeat later, Judith's signal joined them. He whistled once more, lungs aching for the effort. As he turned to follow suit, his retreat was violently halted.

Yuri's vision went white as his head slammed against the ground. A dozen hands grabbed him up, slamming him once more against unforgiving stone instead of the earth. He could hear Repede barking and snarling and attacking, but it was distant and muffled. When his eyes focused, he found six city guards pinning him against the wall of the chapel. The side of his head and the front of his shirt were warm and wet. It hadn't taken much for the wound to be reopened.

He reached for his knife, but they wrenched his arm up, tight against his back and pinned his other hand with an armored knee.

"Repede, get out of here!" he managed through a mouthful of blood.

The dog yelped and barked in protest, but Yuri barely had the voice to order him again.

"Go!"

The two guards that had tried to hold Repede retracted for fear of those sharp teeth, but were happy to let their blades do the talking. Repede was too fast, slipping away and dashing through the hole in the abbey wall and to freedom. Now Yuri only needed to worry about himself.

"Sanctuary," he said, coughing another round of blood.

"No such luck, _Robin Hood_." That voice chilled him to the bone. "Turn him around."

Roughly, the guards obeyed, shackling his arms and throwing him to his knees. The pain in his side made that in his head throb even harder. His hood was yanked back, exposing his eyes to the harsh light of day, and revealing a face he'd rather have never seen again. Alexei looked no different than he had the day he had taken Flynn away to the Crusades with him, maybe only days older, but certainly years shrewder.

"So this is the fearsome Robin Hood?" He laughed, a cold sound barely brushed with humor. "To think that you would walk into this trap where you avoided the others so easily. I suppose your little spy didn't get a chance to warn you about this one." He leaned down and yanked back Yuri's head with a handful of hair. "You'll hang high from the gallows, you pitiful little rat."

A quick breath and Yuri spat, a mouthful of blood splattering across Alexei's cheek.

Without hesitation, he slammed Yuri's head against the ground once more and let out another laugh at the sound it made. World spinning and hazy, bleeding out, Yuri barely mustered the strength to pull himself back up. His fingers strained still for his knife, hidden in the folds of his jerkin. He wasn't done yet. He was out numbered, but he still had a chance. As long as the others were safe, he could still muster the strength to fight. But the guards wasted no time beating that out of him.

Every hit and kick forced more blood from his wounds and by the time they were done, try as he might, he could not pull himself up.

"Don't kill him," Alexei ordered, still smirking. "Crush his spirit, but don't kill him. I want to watch the life drain from his eyes with a rope around his neck."

They hoisted him up and forced him to stand on legs that wobbled worse than before and threatened to collapse beneath him. This would likely not be the last of the torture he endured. The worst, though, was the face that waited for him at the gate of the abbey.

* * *

 

He had been too late. He had pushed his horse ragged over field and road. Yuri's life had depended on it, but Flynn had been too late.

The sight of him shackled, beaten bloody, and strength gone made his stomach turn in knots. They forced him right by and although he tried to catch sight of those eyes, Yuri's head was drooped low, avoiding his stare. He hated it. He hated this. His blood felt white-hot beneath his skin, burning him alive with its fire, but he had to contain it. Yuri wouldn't want him to betray their secret. He knew that.

"Nice of you to show up, Sheriff," Alexei sneered as he followed behind the captive, Yuri. "But it looks like we handled this just fine without you." He motioned for the knights to stop and roughly, he yanked Yuri's head up, but those grey eyes still avoided his. "What do you think? Never a neck more fit for the gallows have I ever seen."

Flynn couldn't find the words to speak.

"Since you rode this whole way out, escort us back to the jail won't you. One extra guard for a prisoner as important as this."

Blood searing and eyes stinging, Flynn could only obey.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

For the people of Nottingham, the capture of Robin Hood felt like the death of their hope. The heaviness of it seeped into every corner of the town, every nook and cranny. Despair over the prince's success was silent but inescapable.

Although he could not show it, it weighed just as heavily on Flynn, making the slightest task a chore and the slightest word of it torture to his ears. It was nothing compared to what Yuri was going through. He experienced the true torture at the hands of Alexei, who never let him forget that the gallows were all that awaited him. Alexei went though every necessary measure to make sure that the hangman's noose that awaited Yuri was nothing less than perfect.

Flynn could see its construction from the window of his office in the guard station, and he was certain that Yuri was made to see it from his jail cell. It was a reminder for the both of them that time was growing dangerously short.

He was still at a loss for what to do. Saving Yuri was his priority, but /how/ was the question that always came up. He needed help, but that was not forthcoming with any ease. Flynn wracked his mind for options as the days to Yuri's execution wound on. He would have to talk to him, and getting into the jail to see him would be the easy part. Whether or not Yuri would talk to him was another matter completely. He had to try. They were running out of options.

Once Alexei had gone for the day, Flynn took the opportunity given to him. The city guards would not question his presence in the jail as the pursuit of Robin Hood had been his mission. As far as they all knew, he and Alexei were working toward a common goal. He strode to the jail with purpose in his step, although his subordinates would never guess to that particular purpose. He need only carry the illusion of complacency.

The guards at the jail entrance didn't question him and barely gave him a passing glance as he walked between them. They shut and locked the gate behind him as normal and he was allowed to continue up the spiral stairs of the tower.

Thanks to Yuri's efforts, the number of people imprisoned had dwindled to a couple of dozen. Many had not been there long, but their glares and hushed tones still cursed him and what he was supposed to stand for. He couldn't blame them for their vitriol.

Cramped stone stairs led all the way to the topmost cell of the jail. Behind a wooden door and metal barred window, Yuri sat, arms chained to the wall with heavy shackles. He was slumped as if asleep. Although the leather of his jerkin was still intact, his shirt was in shreds dripping from his body, exposing flesh torn with bloody red welts and cuts, still fresh from his last beating. Alexei had been careful not to kill Yuri. It was no secret that he was saving that for the gallows as a demonstration before the prince and the people.

Quietly, he unlocked the door and closed it behind himself. Yuri did not stir.

"Yuri..." he spoke barely in a whisper.

"You shouldn't be here." He had likely been awake the whole time if Flynn's entrance hadn't woken him. "Why did you come here?"

"I'm trying to find a way to get you out of here."

"But I'm a criminal. I belong here." Now he decided to mark his actions as criminal and shove it not so subtly in Flynn's face.

"This isn't right. This isn't justice and we both know that."

He chuckled coldly, a strange smirk tugging at his lips.

"Have you given up just like that?" A heat rose in his own voice, but he kept the volume low.

Yuri's eyes lifted and looked at him for the first time since the night Flynn found him injured. Grey ringed in dark bruises and weighed, made dull by the lack of light. He looked so unlike the friend Flynn had known as a boy, so unlike the dark and mischievous phantom of Sherwood that it was startling and unsettling. Those eyes moved, head tilting weakly to look out of the window. Below, the gallows were almost ready. Only hours separated him from death.

"I don't think I'll be coming home."

Such soft words had more impact than if Yuri had stabbed him. He staggered back a step at hearing them. "Y-Yuri..."

"I trust you to do what you think is right. And please, take care of Estelle for me." He exhaled and it seemed like all the strength left him with that breath.

Flynn could find no words, no strength to reason with him in this final hour. It wasn't over yet. Alexei hadn't won yet. The prince hadn't won yet. Yuri was acting like the rope was already tightening around his neck. There was still time. There was still hope. Why was he giving up so easily?

He had to force himself not to run away. He left Yuri alone, unsure of what more to say, of what he could do, knowing that none of it would be of any comfort and there would only be more painful words exchanged. He couldn't bear them. If anyone was going to save Yuri, it was going to have to be Flynn. But he wasn't going to be able to do it alone.

* * *

 

With Alexei personally overseeing the constructions of the gallows and a feast being prepared in his honor, Flynn's presence was barely noticed. Servants and guards and nobles alike didn't pay him any mind. It made slipping up to the east wing easy. Even the guards at Estellise's door seemed largely unaffected by his presence. They still stopped him, however.

"State your business, Sheriff."

He had planned ahead for this. "Lord Alexei ordered that I question Lady Estellise further on Robin Hood."

"Robin Hood's been captured already--"

"But his gang of fellows remains at large. If they were to interrupt the execution tomorrow and provide any hope of escape for our prisoner, I can imagine that both our Royal Highness and Lord Alexei would be furious to say the least."

They looked at each other and nodded and let him pass. They locked the door behind him.

Estellise was seated by the hearth, calm and quiet, but green eyes locked with the fire. The embroidery hoop in her hand was fitted with fabric, but not a single stitch of the gold thread clenched between her fingers. From her stillness, it seemed like she had not moved in years, as if she was flesh made stiff marble.

"Lady Estellise?"

Her head snapped over to look at him and her face softened." Oh, Sheriff..."

"I'm sorry to intrude."

"No, not at all." She motioned to the seat opposite her own. "What can I do for you?"

He sat, casting his eyes about the room. They were alone. He spoke just loud enough to be heard over the crackle of the fire. "I'm here about Yuri. I want to find a a way to save him. But my first concern is for your safety."

"It's not my neck that will have a noose around it tomorrow. But Yuri asked you to, didn't he?"

"Yes."

She smiled, soft and sad. "He's been that way as long as I've known him. I can't say I'm surprised."

"He told me about your relationship."

"Yes. We share a father, but for the longest time, I had no idea that I had a brother. Father sent him away when I was very young. For years, he has been protecting me. Now I want to protect him in return. What are you planning to do?"

"I'm not sure." It was painful to admit that with how short their time was. "I plan to seek out his companions for help. Surely together, we can come up with something."

"Do you know where to find them?"

"Yes, I think so."

"I will find some way of escaping then. Do not worry for me."

"Yuri would never forgive me if I left you without aid."

"Excuse me, Lady Estellise." Sodia presence in the curtained archway of Estellise's bed chamber startled him. Here they were plotting subterfuge with another listening.

"Yes, Sodia?" Estellise did not seem to fear the consequences.

"I don't know what help I can be beyond helping you to escape, but I'm sure I can do that much," Sodia explained confidently. "While I don't agree with Robin Hood or his methods, I do owe you this and it's what I think is right. I won't see you sent to the block because of someone like him."

"How will you do it?" Flynn asked.

"At night, I wear my cloak when I leave. If Lady Estellise wears my dress and cloak and leaves with the hood lifted, I doubt the guards will suspect a thing." She ducked back into the room a moment and returned with a plain, dark brown woolen cloak, a far cry from the silk embroidered cloak of dark purple Estellise wore. "When I go to fetch supper, I'll ready my horse. If you slip out with the dishes afterward, you'll be free to go."

Estellise stood, taking one of Sodia's hands in her own. "That's very brave of you, but what will you do if they find that you are not me?"

"I'll try to slip away later tonight. They won't be looking for either of us until tomorrow."

With that agreed upon, Flynn had one more plan to make, and he had to come up with something much more complex very quickly. Sunset was only hours away, and dawn only a little further.

* * *

 

With sunset finally settling in, Flynn was able to break away from work once more. An early day for him, because they knew he would be in again before the dawn to oversee the execution. He rode from town slowly, letting the horse take an easy pace in spite of the rush he needed and the time constraints ever closing in. He could not act suspiciously in any manner and risk rousing concern.

Once he was far from the sight of the town and safe back on his family lands, he urged his horse into a run, flying across the meadow and down the trail that he could never forget no matter how overgrown. Their pace eased once moving over tree roots. He had no time to have his horse injured. Darkness was settling in, making the forest abuzz with animal life, when he finally caught sight of the tree fort. The camp was quiet and the fire in the pit little but smoldering embers. It was unnerving.

Flynn dismounted, tethering his horse. "Hello?" he spoke aloud as he strode toward the cluster of buildings.

No reply came and he continued. "Hello?" he called again, scanning the walkways above. "I'm here to--"

Stepping a pace forward, he was caught completely off guard as his legs whipped up out from beneath him, and he tumbled backward. It wasn't the ground that caught his fall, but a net that very quickly hoisted him up. Still reeling, he struggled in the web of it, pushing against the sides and tracing the pathway of the rope through the branches with his eyes. He reached for the knife at his side, intending to cut himself free, but stopped at the sight of figures standing below him.

"Well, what have we here?" the archer from the contest spoke with a twang, whistling afterward.

"If it isn't the honorable Sheriff of Nottingham," the minstrel spoke next, bowing with a flourish. "I'd be terribly interested to hear about how you found this place."

"Yeah, how did you?" the boy asked. "And what have you done with Yuri?!"

"Please, I can explain. Just let me down."

"If you can explain with your feet on the ground, you can do it in the net," the minstrel replied.

"I want to help _save_ Yuri. I--"

"Why?" the boy cut him off, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You're the Sheriff."

"He's a dear friend and I don't want to see him hanged."

Suspicions filled all of their faces, obvious disbelief.

"I've got an idea," Raven said. "We'll do a hostage exchange. The Sheriff for the lad."

"Yeah!"

"Not a bad idea really...."

"The prince would never agree," Flynn said. "He and Alexei would sooner see me hanged than let Yuri live another day. They'd probably be content to hang me beside him."

The minstrel opened her mouth to speak, but a series of barks cut her short. Their eyes all turned to see Repede dashing toward them, followed by two familiar forms. Rita regarded the display with disgust, and Estellise with horror.

"Let him down, you idiots," Rita huffed.

"What?" the boy asked. "But why? He's the enemy!"

"No, he's not. Flynn wants to help us save Yuri," Estellise explained, an gentle hand falling on the minstrel's arm. "Judith, please, let him down. Rita and I can both testify on his behalf."

"He's the one who saved Yuri's life. How else do you think he made it to the abbey with a wound like the one he had?" Rita waved sharply in a dismissing motion. "Yuri trusted him and we can, too."

Thankfully, they lowered him safely to the ground and he was able to shrug off the net. Half of the group still regarded him with suspicion, but Raven shooed the boy off to get the fire going. Estellise introduced them all and very soon after being captured as a prisoner, he was asked to sit by the fire as a guest.

"I wish Yuri had told us about you," Karol said, helping Judith break up kindling.

Flynn still didn't know why Yuri hadn't. Estellise, however, had the answer. "He wanted to. He just wasn't sure how to do it."

"Well, it's a moot point now that the lad's in jail," Raven stated grimly, ice blue eyes fixed on the fire. "Ya said ya wanted to help him. What exactly were ya planning?"

"I don't have a plan. That's why I'm here."

They all nodded somberly and fell silent.

"He's heavily guarded now, and will be even more so tomorrow. But if they expect us to attack, they'll be waiting for us tonight. They probably won't think us fool enough to try in broad daylight," Judith explained, turning to Flynn. "So that's when we need to do it. The last minute when they won't expect us. How many guards are slated to be on duty?"

Picking up a twig, he traced a map in the dirt around the fire. The tower, the guard station, and the gallows as well as every possible exit. He marked them simply and used circles to represent the guards. The letter Y marked Yuri, an A for Alexei, and an F for himself. He could even predict, hopefully with some accuracy, Cumore's position.

"Thirty guards are planned to be there, but I wouldn't be surprised if Alexei has fifty or more waiting. Two wait at Yuri's cell, two on each level of the jail, two more at the entrance, six around the perimeter. Four will watch the entrance of the grounds and no less than six will guard the gallows itself. Two guards will retrieve Yuri from his cell and escort him all the way down. I'm one of them. My deputy will be among those overseeing the gallows."

"Can we trust him?" Karol asked.

"I'm afraid not. Whether or not he believes what Alexei is doing is right, he is still a guard, and still loyal to the crown."

"So that leaves us no less than seven against thirty," Judith did the figures in her head. "Highly outnumbered. And Alexei will not take this lying down. He'll be number one to get out of the way."

"Allow me to handle him." Flynn was almost surprised by his own voice, the crackle of his words like lightning.

"Here's what we'll do," Standing, Judith took a long stick from behind her log seat. With the tip of it, she refined and fleshed out the simple map he had made in the dirt. She added more circles and letters and marks they could define as buildings. Thin lines marked paths of travel, thicker one walls and areas to avoid.

Once the map was set, she went through the plan, detailing the steps each of them would need to take, where to be at what time, and what to be ready for. Rita added notes and quips and the two answered questions through the first run. A few walkthroughs, and everyone knew their place and time.

The knots twisting his stomach and the sweating of his hands were constant reminders that they only had one chance to do this right.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

Dawn's light was cold, peeking over the edge of trees and further mountains, washing the field and forests in its yellow-orange light. Although birds rejoiced and plants opened to greet the sun, for Yuri, sunrise brought him no comfort. It drove night from the sky, speeding his remaining time on this earth and serving as an all too grim reminder of the fate that awaited him.

The new gallows had been built in only days and his cell gave him the perfect view of its construction. It had been on purpose. They wanted his hope to slowly drain away as it was built. They wanted him to have a constant symbol that his end was close. It had worked.

Yuri hadn't slept in two days, head and chest heavy with the burden of vigilance. The meals they had brought him, if they could in fact be called meals, remained pushed to the far edges of the room. Even if he wanted to eat the stale and moldy bread, and icy cold, vicious slop they called food, he couldn't have with his hands bound to the wall behind him. Efforts to further break his spirit. It hadn't been the final nail in his coffin, but it was close.

_It looks like I won't be coming home._

Even admitting it aloud had proved to kill very nearly the last bit of fight in him. The look in Flynn's eyes hadn't made saying it any easier and between that gaze and the gallows, he chose the latter.

The lone comfort was that he had never heard of the capture of the others, so he presumed them safe. For the two nights that he had been sleepless, Repede's howl had called to him from the edge of the forest, like a ghost calling him back to the place he could not return to. He had wondered, only briefly, if they had a plan for his escape, but hoped more that they were safe. Besides, if he was going to go down, he would at least give himself a fighting chance. The guards hadn't found the dagger he kept carefully hidden on himself, but they would know its steel soon enough. The blade had one target, the cause of the problems, the prince.

He heard the march of heavy feet long before the guards reached the door of his cell. As the key rattled in the lock, he exhaled, letting everything save his plan within him leave with that breath.

Once they had his hands off the wall, he could draw and take them out. Guards filled the jail, but he could scale the outer wall, or dash by them. Or he might let them walk him to the gallows, where he could pull the knife on the prince. By the time they opened the door, he was still deciding, but that drained away. He should have expected that Flynn would be among the guards for his execution.

Yuri turned his head away as Flynn leaned to unlock his shackles. The look in his eyes was different than the disbelief and sadness that had been so clear there yesterday, but Yuri didn't give himself a chance to place it.

"Already time for the celebration?" he said aloud, voice creaking from disuse. It was as cold as it was sarcastic.

He almost missed Flynn's breath in his ear, a puff of warmth and tangled and confusing words that took him a moment to process.

_Estellise's is safe. We have a plan._

Verbal acknowledgments completely out of the question with another guard watching Yuri's every movement carefully. He waited until Flynn hoisted him up by one arm and tensed the muscles in his hand as a reply.

Whatever sort of plan he had in mind, it was better than a noose around his neck. A tiny glimmer of hope was better than none.

They bound his arms with rope, but not tightly enough that he couldn't wriggle free with some effort. Flynn kept him by the arm as he was guided through the spiral of the jail tower, past shackled and hopeless folks who could not look at him. He had failed them, but he wasn't through yet.

The sunlight was just peeking over the mountains as they walked him out to the gallows platform. The area surrounding it was thick with people, guards and villagers alike, and in an elegant box set up for the occasion, Cumore sat, Alexei at his side. Both seemed all too pleased with themselves. He ignored them largely as he was marched up the wooden steps and onto the high platform of the gallows. A dangling noose awaited him, its perfect curve ready for his throat.

Flynn fitted it over his head, standing so close that Yuri had no choice but to look him in the eyes.

"Don't move until the last second."

"What are you going to do after this? Are you planning on throwing away everything you've worked for?" More than the details of the plan, those questions bit at him.

"I'll do what needs to be done."

The finality of that answer stopped further questions. Flynn took a step back and stood near the hangman, a lank man whose fingers danced nervously over the gallows lever.

The prince stood before his chair, sneering at Yuri in delight over his victory.

"Have you any final words, knave?"

"Down with the prince and long live the people!"

Anger flushed Cumore's face and with a motion of his hand over his throat, he signaled the hangman. The shift of the lever rang in his ears, clear over the pounding of blood. Whatever Flynn had planned better not wait. He still braced himself for something, whether it be salvation or the sickening snap of his own neck.

In a split second, he felt the hatch below him start to give way, but he still didn't move. He wanted to trust Flynn. He had to trust Flynn.

Whizzing sharply over his head, he felt an arrow fly and the tension of the noose go lax. The crowd let out a gasp of awe as he felt himself stagger backward. A warm hand against his shoulder braced him and by the time he realized what had happened, that Raven's arrow had split the rope of the noose and that his hands were free, Flynn was steadying him, a sword in hand. He shook himself to attention, hope surging in his blood, and took the sword. Now it was time to fight for his life.

Guards rushed the platform, but Yuri and Flynn were not alone in their fight. The other guard who had escorted him pulled back his helmet, long hair spilling out of it. Judith traded her guard sword for a spear. Repede dashed up the steps, snarling and barking and driving the hangman back, and in the crowd below, Yuri could see Rita and Karol heightening the commotion as they knocked out or fended off encroaching guards. From his perch above the guard house, Raven aided in the fight with his bow. Soon, Yuri was clashing swords with the guards, Flynn at his back, fighting for their escape.

But Yuri could see an even greater target than his own freedom. In the royal box, the prince was squealing in fear like a pig at slaughter. He was the root of this, and he could be the solution as well. There was a bigger threat currently with Alexei rushing out of his seat, sword in hand and charging toward them.

Halfway up the stairs, Flynn blocked him, taking advantage of the higher ground. Heavy handed, Alexei dropped his block to attack and as Yuri rushed to help, Flynn stopped the heavy blade with his own once more.

"I suspected something like this treachery," Alexei said coldly, readying for his next strike. "I'll separate your traitorous head from your shoulders for this."

"It's your loyalties that are misplaced, Alexei. Our king may be gone, but he is still the king." Flynn parried once more, arms and legs holding steady beneath the weight of Alexei's counterstrike. "Yuri, don't let the prince get away!" he shouted over his shoulder.

He forced himself to leave Flynn to his fight, jumping off the gallows platform and taking his battle through the crowd. Regular citizens had mostly fled by this time, save those few who chose to stand with him at the risk of being labeled traitors. They helped him chop his way through the guards that remained between himself and the royal box, where Cumore was fixed still as a statue save for his cries of terror. When he finally managed to scramble from his chair and away on his belly across the box floor, Yuri was there to stop him, sword splintering the wooden railing before him as a warning.

"Surrender," he demanded, voice heavy and dark. He was positive that Flynn didn't want him doing that which Yuri knew he should. A quick and final end was all that the prince deserved for the things he had done, but could Yuri forgive himself for it? Could _Flynn_ forgive him for it? Was it really the only way?

"Guards!" Cumore cried, but they were all fighting battles of their own.

"Lad!" Raven dropped down into the box from its roof, pulling Yuri's attention away from the prince. He pointed to something much more troubling.

The fight between Flynn and Alexei had moved up the platform and Alexei was on the offense. Flynn needed help, but everyone was embroiled in their own battles. At this rate, there was no way that Yuri could get to him in time by foot. The idea that came to mind was troubling, but he had no time for second guessing

"Give me your bow."

"Lad, ya can't --"

"Just trust me."

Reluctantly, Raven handed Yuri his wooden long bow and an arrow and took to pining Cumore.

Yuri notched the arrow and held his breath steady and his focus straight ahead at his target. He only had one shot at this and he couldn't afford to miss. Even the slightest mistake could cost Flynn his life, and Yuri's mouth went dry and his eyes stung at the thought of losing him again. He waited still and silent for his single shot, for just the right moment. He had to get this right. He couldn't afford not to.

The bowstring snapped back into place as the arrow flew and he watched it streak toward his target. With a thunk, it found purchase in the wooden gallows lever. The platform dropped open just as Alexei was advancing across it toward Flynn. He tumbled down, slamming into the stone walkway below and Flynn's eyes turned to Yuri in surprise just as he was lowering the bow.

"Mother of God, lad! What a shot!" Raven nudged him playfully. "You been holding out on us?"

"Keep the prince here," Yuri said, watching Alexei rise from the ground sword in hand, shaking off the impact, face ashen with a silent rage. At least the shot had bought him some time to help Flynn.

He dashed back to the gallows platform, making it up the stairs only a second after Alexei had. He was already after Flynn again, swinging and cutting and slashing wildly to hit him.

Charging forward, Yuri crashed into Alexei, hoping to throw him through the trap once more, but Alexei shrugged him off easily, knocking him toward Flynn with a swipe of his fist. He stumbled only a step before Flynn helped to steady him. He and Flynn raised their swords to block the next attack, and as soon as Alexei pulled back to strike again, they dove forward, bodies and swords moving in time. With strength and speed combined, they surged forward, landing a heavy, paired blow to Alexei's armor plated chest. It wouldn't be enough to stop him, just a temporary measure for them to gain the upper hand. Another blow like that knocked him over and sent the sword flying from his hand.

"Surrender," Flynn said as they stood over him.

"I'd sooner die," Alexei spat back.

“I'm only giving you this single chance," Yuri pressed the tip of his blade against Alexei's throat, just below the bob of his Adam's apple, "Reconsider."

"I will hunt you both to the ends of the earth."

"That's what I thought." The sword in his hand raised, ready to strike.

Flynn stopped him, one hand pressing his forearm low, and Yuri was glad he did. He didn't need words to explain his reason for stopping Yuri. Yuri already knew what they were.

"What will you do after this? You're no better than an outlaw now. People will come seeking your head next for this treason. Everything you've done will be forfeit!"

"I shall be the judge of who the traitor is here."

That voice forced them all to stop. Even Alexei, who had been trying the stand, could not ignore the weight of the words that voice conveyed. Yuri only moved enough to lift his head toward the approaching pair of figures.

Blond hair lit bright by golden sunlight, a figure as calm and stalwart as he had ever seen in all his years approached, moving with a majestic grace and purpose. Swathed in fine robes and crowned by divinity, the entire crowd, one by one, took to their knees at the sight of him. Yuri looked a little longer, hoping that he wasn't wrong, hoping for everything he was worth. Finally, he too fell in beside Flynn.

"So, the rumors do hold some truth," the king sighed, taking slow and deliberate steps through the crowd and on to the gallows. His footsteps marched past Yuri and came to a stop, those of the second man just behind his. "I am gone away to fight in the Crusades and when I return, I find a mess that the Prince has left."

He fell silent a moment and Yuri could see him motion at the russet haired knight at his shoulder. The knight went down the platform stairs and into the kneeling crowd.

"You two. Stand," he commanded tonelessly.

Yuri had no doubt about who that command was for and rose from his knee as Flynn did.

"You are...?"

"Flynn Scifo, the Sheriff of Nottingham, Your Majesty."

"And you?"

"Yuri Lowell. Or more commonly, Robin Hood."

"I see." The king eyed them and strode back to the edge of the platform. "Where is my brother, the prince?"

"Right here, sire!" Raven popped up out of the royal box, Cumore's neck tightly in one hand.

"R-Richard, help me! These traitors--" Cumore squirmed but the king cut him off.

"From what I've heard far and wide, the only traitors here are the ones who usurped my power in my absence.I have heard that you and Lord Alexei have been making mischief while I was away." He turned to the knight. "Asbel, arrest them both."

"At once ,Your Majesty." He moved to take Cumore from Raven and after he was shackled, came for Alexei next.

"As for the two of you," King Richard turned to them once more, stern face easing into a smile. "I have heard of your deeds in the name of the people. You and your fellows shall be thanked handsomely."

"But how do you know all of this?" Yuri asked, not batting an eye at the elbow Flynn pressed into his side for ignoring the proper address of the king.

"I am curious as well, Your Majesty, if it is not too bold of me."

"I would be to blame for that, Sheriff," the deputy LeBlanc stepped up. "Lord Asbel asked that I keep him informed of the events about town."

"Estellise was also instrumental in the information that we received," King Richard explained.

Yuri ducked away, ignoring further accolades. Judith, Rita, Karol, and Raven had already gathered. Repede padded up beside him. Estelle slipped from the ornate carriage that had brought the king, and joined them with hurried steps. She grabbed him tightly, fighting back the tears welling in her green eyes.

"Is everyone all right?" He asked, rubbing his neck where the sensation of the hangman's noose was all too fresh on his skin.

"Now that you're safe," Estelle said, pulling back and wiping her eyes.

"Of course we're all right!" Karol said.

"Are _you_ all right?" Judith asked.

"Yeah, you're the one who almost met his maker," Rita added.

"I'm fine." A little shaken, but no worse for wear. He didn't want to have a call quite that close again any time soon.

"Yuri," Flynn called from a few steps away. "All of you. His Majesty wishes to speak with you."

He let the others pull away and pass him before he turned, and with a frozen breath, spun to face Flynn. Those eyes were so blue, blue as the day they had met, as blue as the day they had parted, as the day Yuri had found that he hadn't been forgotten, as when he had feared he might not return. They made him want to crumble, for his aching body to fall all to pieces in every different way that it could. The touch of Flynn's hand on his own drew his only breath from his lungs and he felt every fiber of his being tremble.

"Yuri, I...." he murmured, twining their fingers together.

"Hush," Yuri managed, bumping his forehead against Flynn's ever so gently. "You can yell at me all you want later."

But Yuri knew that was not what Flynn wanted. He wouldn't yell. He might not even speak, but his actions would be as clear as words and every thought visible in the blue of his eyes.

"Is there," he stopped, weighing the question. He powered through the fear. He needed the answer. "Is there still a place for me?"

Flynn's answer came without hesitation, soft and clear and true. "Always."

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

Here's the finale! Thanks for reading <3!

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King Richard's return had brought peace and prosperity to Nottingham once more. The damage that had been done by Cumore and Alexei would take no small time to fix, but the pieces were in place for the healing to begin. Flynn couldn't say how glad he was to see the jail empty and had no words to thank the king for the return of his family's lands.

Taxes had quickly been lightened and the king had issued judgments against both Cumore and Alexei for their roles in the usurping of his power and the tax hikes to fill their pockets. It had been incredibly satisfying watching them driven off in a barred wagon to the capital where they would likely spend their lives in prison.

The autumn sun was warm and bright, but the air cooled, crisp and clear when the sun sank below the trees. A satisfying day of work protecting and aiding the people of Nottingham behind him, he sank with the sun into a chair before the hearth of the great hall. Servants buzzed about him, readying for the evening meal. Their warmth filled every corner of he manor, their presence welcome and wholesome. His home was nearly pieced all back together now.

Flynn hadn't been as hungry as this in a long time. Every scent of the kitchens teased his nose and his stomach, but it would have to wait a little longer. The warm and mellow wine in his cup would tide him over for now.

Into the flames of the crackling fire he stared, recalling the events and the work of these previous weeks that made his muscles ache and his stomach hunger. Summer had only gone two weeks before, taking with it the suffocating heat and the reality of all that had happened since his return to the manor from his tour in the Crusades. It all seemed like a hazy dream, but the truth was that it had all been very real and very painful. But with the passing of the pain and the return of the king, there had been joy abounding and some of it had been for Flynn.

Pardons had been issued, first for those wrongly imprisoned under the prince's iron grip. Yuri and his fellows were next and the king had been generous in his appreciation of them. They had all denied monetary reward, but other gifts were not refused so lightly. The opportunity to be in the employ of the beloved King Richard was irresistible.

Although now that Flynn had his lands and inheritance back, he had chosen to stay on as the Sheriff. He enjoyed the job when he wasn't an overblown tax collector. With Raven's help, they had been training those city guardsmen who had fallen lax with their skills, although the old man spent as much time lazing about as actually working. Judith had taken to her role as the town crier with zeal, always a song and a bit of good news on her lips. Karol had taken an apprenticeship with the blacksmith with equal enthusiasm. Rita had returned to the abbey, and continued to oversee all the local events of the faithful. Estellise was now free to come and go as she pleased and spent her days between the castle and the abbey, transcribing books as well as writing a few of her own. The village children enjoyed her presence and the stories she brought with her. Yuri, however, tried to deny all rewards: gold, land, knighthood. He had wanted none of it. Flynn knew that he had never wanted the recognition for the work he had done, but even he and Repede hadn't escaped empty handed, even though they had tried.

A stiff wind whipped through the hall, dowsing the fire to a mere flicker. It cut through the candles and lanterns and through his skin as a chill before it disappeared. The window it had come in from shuttered once more, and the warmth of the fire burned away the cold. The bench beside him creaked and a pair of soft, leather boots were yanked off of a pair of feet and left to rest beside the hearth.

"You could always come in the front door," Flynn said, scratching around the metal collar that looped Repede's neck, who padded up to sit beside him.

"Just because I'm not climbing trees constantly anymore doesn't mean that I want to get out of the habit." Yuri chuckled beside him, letting his dark hood fall to his shoulders and shaking his hair loose. He tugged off his gloves and threw them on top of his boots.

When Flynn finally looked over at him, he had eased backward, pressing against the edge of the table as he stretched bare toes toward the warmth of the fireplace. The dark green and blacks of his clothes hadn't changed much in the weeks since the king had returned. The patch on his chest over his heart was new, its silver and colored threads stitched in the shape of a wolf's head before a tree ringed with a golden crown. Estellise's fine hand had made it and Yuri wore it at her, and the King's, behest. He hadn't asked for the title of the Warden of Sherwood, and had tried to deny the honor thrust upon him, but the king had heard no dissent on the matter. In the end, the king had won and although Yuri had seemed none too happy with the responsibility and reward, he did seem to thoroughly relish his job.

Even now, when Flynn looked at him, he could only be glad. Together, they had lost and found each other, and Flynn had nearly lost Yuri again. But he was here now, whole, alive, healthy, happy, and Flynn couldn't have asked for any better tribute to their childhood days of carefree joy and delight than for the two of them to be right back here, where they had met, where they had grown and laughed and loved. There was no better reward for Flynn than this. It was all that he had ever wanted.

He reached and took Yuri's hand in his, twining their fingers together. Yuri squeezed in return, the muscles of his calloused hands feeling no different than they had all those years ago. He smiled. They both did, and they shared a kiss that meant everything to him, that held each and every thought and precious memory and feeling that he had ever felt and known for Yuri.

"Welcome home," he said with a steady breath at the cusp of Yuri's lips as he pulled away.

Those eyes glittered in firelight, as wild as the day they had met. "It's good to be back."


End file.
